by Tom Mohan
“Tobias’s kin?” She cursed. “What the hell is that boy doing?” She paced back and forth across the small porch. “I knew there had to be a traitor, someone helping the fae from this side. Never did believe it was Conall Finn. Jacob Yoder, huh? Kind of makes sense when you think about it.”
“Ma’am?”
“He never did follow the old ways. Always a rebel.” She winked at Johnny. “Much like yourself at one time.”
Again, Johnny blushed. Liza wondered what feelings he might have for this beautiful woman. Whatever they were, she was certain the Mathair was aware. “I’m indebted to you and your folks for saving me from that,” Johnny said, not meeting her gaze.
Nidawi waved the hand with the cigarette and ignored the comment before turning her attention back to Liza. “I always wondered if you were real. Brianna and I have had many a heated discussion over how much of the legend was true and how much was just crap. She always said she could feel you out there. I never could. Now I think I know why.”
I should say something, Liza thought, but her throat was dry. She felt like a child in a room full of adults, shy and out of place. Just the presence of this woman intimidated her more than anything she’d encountered so far. A line of sweat dripped down her back. She felt a sudden urge to take her shoes off, to go barefoot like Mathair Nidawi and feel the life of the earth beneath her—never mind that she had always hated being barefoot in the city.
The Mathair walked down the two steps of her porch to within a couple feet of Liza. Up close, the woman was even smaller than Liza had thought. She took another drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke up between them, not in Liza’s face but close enough that Liza could not help but smell the harsh scent. Marijuana? She didn’t think so, but something close. Definitely not regular cigarette tobacco.
Still holding the cigarette between her fingers, Mathair Nidawi pressed her hand against Liza’s chest, over her heart. Smoke from the cigarette wafted up in Liza’s face. It no longer smelled as harsh but seemed to have more of a natural, woodsy scent. Liza tried not to inhale too much of it.
Nidawi removed her hand and turned away. “Come with me,” she said as she started back toward the house. Liza wasn’t sure she wanted to follow, but Johnny’s hand on her back started her along the narrow path. Liza expected the porch to squeak as they climbed up on it, but it felt as solid as the earth.
“Please, remove your shoes,” Nidawi said.
Liza slipped her shoes off and followed the woman through the door. Johnny was no longer behind her, but for some reason this did not concern her. Liza’s skin tingled as she entered the house. It started in her feet and worked its way up her body. The house itself offering its greeting. She wasn’t sure how she knew this, but there was no doubt in her mind it was true.
She gasped as she took in the interior. Everything—walls, floor, and furnishings—was of rough, unfinished wood. The scent of the forest mingling with the odor of the Old One’s cigarettes evoked a wild sense of nature. Even the evening sounds of crickets and croaking frogs felt a part of the house itself. She touched the wall beside her. It did not have the dry feeling of long-dead wood but the cool feeling of life. She realized that all of the wood in the house was still alive, the house itself rooted to the earth.
“The house welcomes you,” Nidawi said. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? You are almost as much a part of this land as I am.”
“I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Ah, she speaks.” Mathair Nidawi smiled at her. The smile was at once warm and inviting as well as sad and knowing. “Perhaps I can help you know yourself better. Come.”
Liza followed the woman deeper into the house, which, as with the homes of the other Old Ones, was much larger on the inside than on the outside. They entered a large room that had no furnishings at all except two bearskin rugs on the floor with a fire pit in the center. The fire pit was raised about a foot off the floor, and a small fire was already kindled within. The smoke rose to an opening in the ceiling and drifted into the night.
“Sit,” Nidawi said, indicating the rug to Liza’s left. Liza lowered herself to the floor, folding her legs in front of her. Nidawi knelt on the other rug as the flames danced between them. “It is strange, don’t you think, that one such as you should grow up in a place where you have almost no interaction with nature?”
“We have nature,” Liza said, feeling somewhat defensive. “The ocean is beautiful, and we have parks and . . .” Her words faded. What did she have? Why had she never left the confines of the city and explored what lay beyond?
“I’m certain the ocean is beautiful, but it never had the familiarity of this forest, did it?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. You were conceived in that place for a reason. Kept there until such a time as this. If you had experienced your heritage too early, you might have upset the balance.”
“The balance of what?”
Mathair Nidawi took a sprig of something from beside the fire and tossed it in. Sparks rose from the flames like fireflies. Liza’s gaze followed them as they drifted up through the opening in the ceiling.
“Before time as you know it began, the fae existed,” Nidawi said. “Where they came from is lost in the past, but it is safe to say, they are not like us. They knew the earth in ways that we shall never know and that modern man could never comprehend. They were a peaceful race, one that lived for the simple joy of existence. They knew nothing of war and strife, only love and peace. They filled the pristine forests of the earth, sharing the land with the rest of creation.” She paused and gazed through the flames at Liza. “Imagine it, Liza. Imagine such a world.”
Liza could imagine it. Something deep within her felt the trueness of the words. She could almost see the fae folk dancing for joy in the flames. Nidawi tossed in another sprig, and the colors came to life.
“Somewhere along the way, humanity appeared in the land. Humans were different—a coarse, ignorant race—and the fae shied away from them. Where the fae lived with nature in mutual co-existence, humans tried to bend nature to their will. The fae outnumbered the humans, but the sheer rawness of this new race disgusted them. They wanted no part of it. Over time, the human race grew and spread. They took what they wanted from the land with little regard for the consequences.”
Her eyes caught Liza’s across the fire, held them. “The fae had some ability to see the future. They knew that, in time, humans would ravage the earth like a swarm of locusts through a field. You experienced this, did you not? Could you feel the land in your city of concrete and people? Could you sense anything there but noise and confusion?”
Liza did not have to think about it. “No.”
“And since coming here?”
Liza continued to watch the flames. “I feel more alive than I ever have. I feel like I belong.”
“As the human race spread, the fae were forced to hide themselves. The problem of the humans began to stir friction among the fae folk. Most wanted to remain hidden, but a growing faction wanted to destroy the human race before it grew too strong. The fae had the power, of that there was no question, but did they have the right? The elders knew that to eradicate any form of creation would upset the balance of things and do irreparable harm. The other side argued that if they could not exterminate this threat, they should enslave it. Time holds little meaning to the fae, and this argument raged for centuries.
“During this time, some of the fae folk ventured closer and closer to the humans. They played tricks on them in an attempt to frighten them away from their lands. Thus began the legends of spirit creatures and other tales. The fairy of Ireland are some of the best known today, but almost all such legends from around the world originate with the fae, even those of my native ancestors. We worshipped them and lived in peace with them, and they in turn lived in peace with us. This has been true of other cultures throughout time but has grown almost nonexistent now.”
As Liza listened, she ima
gined she could actually see the fae folk in the fire, shifting and moving with the flickering flames as Nidawi told their ancient story. The tale drew her in, filling her with a truth so very few knew of.
“And then, many centuries ago, one of the fae rose up and challenged the edict barring direct contact with humans. His name was Oberon, a son of the king, royalty. Oberon’s place was not high in the line of ascension to the throne, nor was it low, but somewhere in the middle. Still, he craved power and sought to increase his influence among the fae by speaking against humans.”
Liza watched as Nidawi’s words became figures moving about in the flames. She saw Oberon standing before a crowd. He was a magnificent-looking man, tall and muscular with a smooth, tan face and intelligent eyes that burned with passion. Liza felt herself gasp at such beauty and strength. No sound accompanied the image, but the faces of those in the crowd were mesmerized by Oberon’s words.
“The king ordered Oberon to cease his actions under penalty of incarceration, but Oberon fled to the mountains where the monsters dwelt. That was thought to be the end of him. Not even the most powerful of the fae survived for long in those mountains. For years, nothing was heard of him, but one day he returned. He strode through the city and into the throne room. A creature of the mountains was with him. The creature appeared to be an old woman, but they say her form shifted constantly, like smoke, and afterward no one could describe her accurately.”
As Liza stared into the flames, the images became more distinct. There was a buzzing sound that became voices, high and tinny at first, then growing more lucid and clear.
“You have no business here,” the king said to his son. “By returning you have demanded your own death.”
Oberon’s face was a cruel caricature of the beautiful creature he had once been. His time in the mountains had changed him. He looked around the room with hate-filled eyes. “Kill me if you can. Destiny does not die easily.”
Two of the king’s guard stepped forward and froze. Their bodies convulsed, and blood seeped from their wide eyes. Then their heads exploded, splashing gore over those around them. For a moment, the headless bodies stood there, then they sagged to the floor as though released from a powerful grip. An arrow sped toward Oberon. The hooded creature’s arm flashed out, and the arrow reversed its course, burying itself fletch-first in the archer’s eye.
“Enough,” shouted the king as he stood from his throne. His eyes were like steel, but his hands trembled. “What is it you want? What brings you back?”
Oberon smiled and paced the floor. “What brings me back? I’ll tell you, Father. In the time since you saw fit to banish me, the humans have claimed more of our sacred land. They are grotesque beasts that defile the very ground upon which they walk. For too long, you have let them have their way. The time has come to eradicate them. We have already begun in the mountains. No more hiding in the shadows. No more pretending that we don’t exist” He turned in a circle, addressing the crowd that had followed him into the throne room. “They fear us, these humans. They believe us to be monsters or spirits. We have seen this in the mountains. They are a superstitious, ignorant race. They would worship us if we allowed it.”
“You have not answered my question,” the king said. “What is it you want?”
“Why Father, that should be obvious. I want your throne.” At these words, more of the mountain creatures flowed in through the door. They were of all shapes and sizes, some fur-covered, others smooth-skinned. The one thing they had in common was their loyalty to the Prince. Around the room, the fae uttered shrieks of fear and disgust, while others looked on with an overwhelming urge to cheer the Prince on.
“Oberon had the king seized and the royal advisors executed on the spot,” Nidawi said as the sound from the flames faded.
The scene sped forward now as time flowed ever onward. “Oberon’s followers dragged the king to the courtyard to be executed where all could see. The mountain creatures encircled the king and his son, and no one dared interfere. The fae who served the king followed a way of peace and could not stand up to their violent mountain relatives. The courtyard was in turmoil when a brilliant light flashed, and the sound of crashing thunder split the heavens.” Liza was aware of Nidawi tossing another sprig into the fire, the sparks coinciding with the flash of light in her story. The sparks carried her consciousness with them, drawing her deeper into the flames.
“The time of the oracle has come to pass,” said a voice at the edge of the courtyard. All eyes turned to see the shrunken form of the hermit, Ten’ Nu Ha. There were some gasps of surprise and some growls of anger as the hermit stepped into the crowd. He moved without fear or hesitation. His eyes held the wisdom of ages beyond even the oldest of the fae.
Nidawi’s voice interrupted the vision. “Ten’ Nu Ha was an elemental, though where other elementals displayed only one aspect of the Natural, he carried within him all aspects—earth, water, light, fire—he flowed through life as one with nature itself. He was almost as much a mystery to the fae as the fae are to us.”
Mathair Nidawi paused. Liza could feel the woman’s eyes upon her but was unable to tear her gaze from the flame. “The night grows late, and we are running out of time. He already knows you are here and is on his way.”
“Is this really necessary?” Liza heard Johnny ask.
“She must fulfill her destiny, as do we all. At least this way she will have some idea of what she is a part of and, maybe, can find a way to change the curse.”
Liza tried to look away, tried to ask what they were talking about, but her body felt distant and detached, just another part of the flickering fire. Nidawi tossed one more sprig into the flame. The colors danced before Liza’s locked gaze.
“Listen well, Princess,” Nidawi said. “The fate of humankind rests on your shoulders. Ten’ Nu Ha placed a spell on the king. Before the eyes of all present, the king changed from his natural form of fae royalty to a pillar of gold. The pillar was covered with runes that none of the fae recognized nor could decipher. From within the pillar, a light shone, not bright to look upon, yet as infinite as the light of the sun. That light burned any falseness from all it touched, revealing their true selves. Some were shown to be loyal to the king and his line, but others, so many others, were shown to be followers of Oberon in their deepest hearts. Many were unaware of their true selves until the king’s light fell upon them. Those whose hearts followed the darkness of Oberon could not stand the light and fled from it—including Oberon himself.
“Eventually, the light’s power lessened, providing an enclosure of illumination and safety surrounded by the darkness of the rebel fae. This much is considered truth. What I will say next is legend, though it seems a legend that is coming to be. If nothing else, Oberon himself believes it to be true.” Her words were coming faster now, and Liza could hear desperation in them. Mathair Nidawi was scared.
“It is said that Ten’ Nu Ha left the land of the fae and entered the human world. It is said that he began the Finn family line before closing the fae behind the Mist. It is said that he foretold of one to come, a woman, part human and part fae. The very earth would rejoice and recoil at her birth. She would have the power to either save or destroy humankind. She would be the Princess, though Princess to Oberon or to the line of the king would be her choice alone. I believe Ten’ Nu Ha to be your father.” Nidawi chuckled lightly. “Like it or not, Liza McCarthy, you are this princess. You will decide the fate of the world.”
Liza felt a hand rest on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze, and then the hand vanished, and Liza knew she was alone. Her mind screamed at her to move, to get away, but the flames held her. She knew that Jacob was coming for her. She’d thought Johnny was taking her to safety, but he was only toying with her. A car pulled up outside. Its door opened and slammed. Footsteps sounded on the porch, then in the house.
“Well, well, look what we have here,” Jacob Yoder said.
Fallon opened her eyes. Blurred images surrounded
her. She turned her head, and fireworks of pain caused her to moan and close her eyes. She took a few deep breaths and waited for the pain to subside.
For a moment, she simply lay there, allowing her senses to tell her what her eyes were not yet ready to see for themselves. She heard quiet sounds—a nearby beeping, far-off conversations, a voice that seemed to come from a speaker somewhere. She inhaled another deep breath through her nose and picked up the scent of antiseptic. She was in a hospital.
The thought accelerated her heart rate, bringing the pain in her skull to a crescendo. She tried to think, but her mind was still fuzzy. Something had happened at the house. Marcas and Conall were there. Was that Conall? The memory was distorted and strange, like a dream that makes sense in sleep but is completely out of whack upon waking.
She struggled to grasp the memory, but something else was trying to force its way into her consciousness. Something cold and dark.
It’s coming for you, Fallon.
The thought came as someone else’s voice in her head.
You have to get out of there.
Conall? She opened her eyes, expecting to see her brother there with her. She was indeed in a hospital. She was also alone. Conall was not with her.
Still, the feeling of danger was palpable. There was an empty bed across the room from her own, the curtain around it drawn back to reveal nothing that might harm her. On the other side of the room, the bathroom door was also wide open. The room was dim but not dark, and she could see nurses moving in the hallway. Everything appeared safe and normal.
Fallon sat up. The room spun as pain flared behind her eyes. She took a couple deep breaths, and the dizziness faded as the pain settled into a dull ache. There was an emptiness inside her that was usually filled with the sense of her family. She felt more alone than she ever had in her life.
The dread grew stronger. She needed to escape. To where, she did not know, but she had to move.
