by Roz Marshall
"It only seems to appear when I'm in danger," Corinne continued in a small voice.
Phemie glanced sharply at her.
"Or when I think I'm in danger," she added sheepishly.
"And then what happens to it?"
Corinne lifted a shoulder. "It disappears eventually. When I forget about it. Or when I'm asleep."
Phemie took a deep breath. "Right. But that doesn't explain what you were doing here this late at night?"
The girl's expression took on a far-away look. "I was up Chessaig, speaking to Elphin."
-::-
Elphin trudged down the hill, taking the long path that would eventually lead him to Urisk's pool and the herb meadow. Unlike in Scotland, here in the realm it never got fully dark—not unless you visited the Dark Realm. At the Bright King's court it was always light and sunny, as the name suggested, and in his sister's domain it was always midnight. But in places like this—neither one nor the other—there was no such thing as nightfall, and no such thing as noon.
It had taken him some time to get used to it; to learn to sleep even when it felt like daytime, to trust his body's rhythms and work when he was awake, sleep when he grew tired. But he often yearned for the daily cycles he had known in Scotland, for the spring promise of dawn with its songbird chorus, for the long autumn evenings: kicking through the golden leaves and drying conkers in front of a roaring fire. He even missed the Scottish weather—the dreich, grey misty days that matched his mood so much of the time here in the realm; the April showers making everything look shiny and new; the October gales that sent the animals running for their barns and the humans scuttling into their solid stone houses. Like the night that he had ended up here…
Distant hoofbeats interrupted his reverie, and sent him rushing off the path, throwing his magical cloak over his head and hunkering behind a gorse bush. Could it be the Wild Hunt? No. There was only one set of hoofbeats. Cailleach? But she would not be mounted on a horse. He craned his neck, gaze fixed on a distant corner.
When the rider came into view, he breathed a sigh of relief, mantled his cloak, and stepped forward to meet the grey rider. "Hail, Myrddin!" he greeted the wizard.
Sharp eyes searched his face. "Well met, young Elphin. What ails you?"
"Nothing…" Elphin started to say, but the wizard arched his eyebrows and Elphin faltered to a stop.
Myrddin stepped off his horse. "What ails you?" he asked again, more insistently.
Elphin took a deep breath. "It is a long story…"
CHAPTER 18
THE GAMING HEADSET felt strange on Phemie's temples. And it blocked out much of the sound from the real world. But not so much that she couldn't hear Corinne's whispered instructions.
"Touch the big F to start."
The flaming golden F disappeared when she touched it with an unsteady finger, and was replaced by golden text: 'WELCOME TO FEYLAND'. Her stomach churned. I really am doing this.
In the background, pan pipes played a haunting tune, and a description of the game scrolled across the black background, before changing from bright gold to deepest red, then scattering into tiny fragments and disappearing. For a split second, a pair of red eyes glowed menacingly from the shadows. A chill went up Phemie's spine.
"Time to choose your avatar," Corinne whispered.
"Avatar?" Phemie asked, visions of the blue-skinned aliens from the cult James Cameron film flashing through her head. "I thought it was fairyland?"
"Your character," Corinne replied. "Mine is an archer."
Hence the bow and arrow.
Phemie gave her a thumbs-up. "I'll choose something else then." She scanned the list of options, but her attention was drawn to one in particular. "You said we need magic to get you through the stones?"
"Yes. That's what Elphin said."
A Spellcaster it will be, then.
-::-
It felt strange, having another human in the game. Different to when Corinne had met Elphin—or Urisk, or any of the other Feyland characters.
Beside her, Phemie's avatar strode along a forest path, blue robes swirling around her knees, gnarled oaken staff gripped tightly in her hand. At the end of the staff, a white crystal glowed dully. Apparently spellcasters could throw fireballs and bolts of magic. Might be useful if we bump into that wolf. Or Cailleach. Which was looking possible. Corinne's jaw clenched. There was no sign of the brown goblin, and the path that they were on looked like the one that led to the blue pool. Corinne crossed her fingers. Maybe having someone else with her had broken the jinx or whatever it was that had kept her away from the realm.
She touched Phemie on the arm. "Remember not to use your real name, if we meet anyone. That will give them power over you. Choose something else."
Phemie nodded.
It was hard to reconcile the vibrant spellcaster beside her with the old farmer from Scotland. Phemie had chosen to make her avatar young, so she didn't look much older than Corinne, with dirty-blonde hair, clear skin and green eyes.
But that was one of the advantages of gaming, one of the things Corinne liked about it—the chance to role-play as someone else. As an archer she could dance around her enemies like Legolas, fight bravely like Joan of Arc or slip stealthily through the woods like Pocahontas. So if the old lady wanted to re-live her youth, good on her.
"What does this witch look like?" Phemie asked. "The one who trapped Elphin in here."
"Horrid," replied Corinne. "Blue skin and white hair. Wrinkles." She stopped in her tracks. "Unless she's using a glamour."
Phemie quirked an eyebrow.
"She did that once, to trap me. She looked like the white witch from Narnia—blue and white still, but young and beautiful."
Phemie's eyebrow raised even higher. "Maybe that's how she hoodwinked Elphin."
Something pricked at Corinne's heart, as she thought of her friend's face, and imagined him trapped in the ice cave for years with that evil creature. It must've been awful. She took a deep breath and set off down the path again. "C'mon. Let's go find him."
-::-
Being in Feyland reminded Phemie of what it felt like to be young. Her joints didn't hurt every time she moved. Her back was straight, with no real effort on her part. And her senses were heightened—she could smell the damp earth, feel a slight breeze against her cheek, see every knot on the trunks of the trees they passed. But before they'd gone more than a few steps, those heightened senses picked up the sound of distant hoofbeats. Coming closer.
She put out a hand to stop Corinne, a finger to her lips.
Stepping off the path, they crouched behind a rhododendron bush with deep-green leaves and bright red flowers. Silently, Corinne pulled the bow from her shoulder and fitted an arrow, her gaze focussed on a faraway bend in the path.
Phemie quickly scanned the game controls and found the button that invoked a fireball. Moments later, an orb of flickering light and flame glowed in the middle of her palm. Aiming it in the correct direction might be a bit much to ask, for her first foray into the game—any game—but hopefully it would act as a deterrent. Or scare the horse at least.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. But her mind betrayed her. What happened if you got injured—or worse, killed—in this game that wasn't a game? Would you die in real life? Would your family ever find your body? She glanced at the girl. What would her parents say?
Planting her feet and holding her breath, Phemie's finger hovered over the firing button. As the responsible adult here, it was up to her to make sure that didn't happen.
-::-
Beside her, Phemie twitched as the rider came into view, and a fireball flew through the air before Corinne could stop her. Fortunately it missed the man, but hit a nearby bush which burst into flames, sparking purple and green in the dimness of the forest. The black stallion shied at the fire, nearly unseating its grey rider. "It's only Mer—Myrddin," she shouted at Phemie, hurrying onto the path and hailing the approaching wizard.
Myrddin pulled his snorting horse to a halt beside them, and with a swirl of his cloak, jumped to the ground, his face grim. "What—"
"I'm sorry, Myrddin. My friend—" Corinne indicated the blue-robed spellcaster standing tensely behind her, "is new here. And I haven't had time to tell her about you."
He inclined his head. "Apology accepted. Good morrow, young archer. And who is your companion, may I ask?"
Corinne waved Phemie forwards. "This is…" She frowned at Phemie. What name has she chosen?
"Gwyllin, sire." Phemie extended a hand. Fortunately, this time it didn't have a fireball in it. "I'm Elphin's sister."
-::-
For a microsecond, Myrddin froze, and then turned to Corinne. "Very well. I have come to take you to the Bright Court." His grey eyes glinted at the girl from under his bushy eyebrows. "To Elphin. But," his voice rose a notch and he pinned the spellcaster with his gaze. What can I say to keep her away? "Only one mortal may enter the court at a time. Corinne must meet with Elphin. I will get you, Gwyllin, to…" he paused briefly, his mind racing through likely scenarios, "stand guard. You can protect us from the blue witch. Prepare some spells and fireballs while we ride."
With that, he let out a piercing whistle, and two more horses—pewter-coloured this time—galloped towards them. "Let us ride for the Bright Court."
CHAPTER 19
THIS WAS CORINNE'S third time at the Bright Court, but it didn't get any less awesome. Or any less scary.
At her side, Myrddin hissed, "Remember, do not eat or drink anything here."
She nodded, her eyes wide as she gazed at the fantastical creatures who graced the Bright Court. They were as entrancing as the first time she'd been here. Well, nearly. This time there was no handsome minstrel singing his heart out to the assembled throng and making her pulse race when he caught her eye. Just elves, nymphs, pixies, naiads… every type of faerie she'd ever imagined. And then some.
They smelled like vanilla. Or roses. Or strawberry. And their voices trilled and tinkled like delicate music or a mountain stream. But as if that wasn't enough to overpower her senses, they looked amazing too. Like every talented artist in the world had got together and painted their idea of the perfect person: porcelain skin, star-bright eyes, ruby-red lips and gleaming tresses. She glanced down at her leather waistcoat and green leggings, feeling dowdy and plain by comparison. Until she remembered that as well as the handsome elves, pretty pixies and beautiful faeries the Bright Court also housed ugly spriggans, wizened hobs and other strange creatures she didn't even know the names of.
Myrddin interrupted her reverie, touching her elbow and indicating a figure across the clearing.
Elphin!
This time, there were no magical barriers or inconvenient weapons in the way. Dropping her longbow on the ground and throwing decorum to the wind, Corinne flew towards him and enveloped him in a hug.
-::-
Once Myrddin and Corinne had left for the Bright Court, Phemie took stock of her situation.
Here she was, in this strange in-between place that was maybe a game—or maybe the realm of faerie. It certainly felt pretty real. The loamy smell of the peaty earth beneath her feet made her nostrils twitch, and if she reached out and touched the nearest birch tree, she could feel the veins criss-crossing the leaves and the papery texture of the peeling bark. If this was just a game, then technology had moved on a lot since her youth. And if it was fairyland, then… Her mouth went dry. Could it really be true?
She looked down at her hands, but all she saw was smooth skin with a sun-kissed glow—no sign of the gamer gloves with their jewel-bright LEDs and sensor pads. And she could no longer feel the visor pressing into her temples. Instead, everything felt real. Even the magic seemed real.
Like that old man—Myrddin. He'd reminded her of Gandalf. Or… She remembered the legend she'd told Corinne about the other day. Or Merlin. She frowned. But is Merlin a character in the game, or is he for real?
And is my brother really here in the faerie realm, or is he, too, just a character in the game?
Despite his magic, Myrddin hadn't explained why she couldn't go to the Bright Court, meet this Elphin and find out for herself.
Or had he?
She certainly had no memory of it. When he'd looked her in the eye, it was as though all thoughts of anything except helping him and doing what he said had flown from her brain.
Perhaps he had bewitched her? She shook her head. Stupid old woman. And why had she let Corinne go with him? She squared her shoulders. I'll go check the girl is safe.
But before Phemie could take a step, a branch twitched in a bush over by the path and there was the faintest rustle of the leaves, like a baby's breath had disturbed it. Phemie froze. Seconds later, a white wolf slipped silently through the trees, ominous and deadly like a red-eyed wraith.
Her fingers trembling in anticipation of impending action, Phemie quickly invoked a fireball. Maybe they'll need me as a guard after all.
-::-
It was the moment Elphin had dreamed of for so long. Holding Corinne in his arms, by her choice, not because he was comforting her or she was sorry for him. And she had looked so happy to see him! Her feet had hardly touched the ground as she raced across the court and into his arms.
Her body was strong like a vaquero, but lithe like a dancer and soft like a madonna. Smelling faintly of apple, her hair tickled his cheek and her throaty chuckle of delight was muffled by his rough tunic. "I've missed you, Elphin."
A swell of happiness rose in his chest and he was unable to stop the smile from taking over his face. Finally! At last, his enchantment would be broken, and he could leave this cursed place.
Breaking their embrace, he looked down at his body, expecting to see it change, waiting to feel his bones and joints groan and spasm as they rearranged themselves into his real form.
But nothing happened.
He looked up at her, the smile fading from his face as disappointment replaced delight and confusion displaced hope.
The expression on her face gave him his answer. She looked happy. Friendly. Pleased. But not loving. Not in love.
His spirits plummeted, and he had to turn away so she would not see the tears welling in his eyes. "I—I have missed you too," he croaked, hoping the catch in his voice would go undetected.
-::-
Watching the reunion scene play out at the far side of the Bright Court, Myrddin's jaw tightened. The enchantment had not broken. I need to intervene.
But before he reached them, the rumble of a muffled explosion stopped him in his tracks and had him spinning in alarm, his cloak swirling around his knees.
Some distance away—in the direction they had come from, and where they had left Elphin's sister Gwyllin—flames leapt into the sky, sparks flying high above the canopy of trees. The first explosion was followed by a piercing scream, and then another explosion, and another…but Myrddin did not wait to hear any more. It sounded like the novice Spellcaster was in dire need of his help. Clutching his staff, the crystal at its tip now burning fire-bright, he flew through the trees, hoping he had not left it too late.
-::-
At the sound of the fireball fight, Corinne spun on her heel. "Phemie!" she cried, racing to pick up her bow.
But Elphin was faster; grabbing her arm and pulling her to a stop. "Stay," he cautioned. "Let Myrddin deal with it."
"But…" The argument died on her lips as a newcomer entered the Bright Court.
Cailleach.
She seemed taller, somehow—larger than life, with her skirts blacker than coal and her shawl whiter than snow. And those eyes—sometimes rheumy, sometimes glacial; right now they burned like white-hot steel. And they were glaring malevolently at Corinne.
"You!" cried the witch. "You stole my cupbearer!" In one swift movement, Cailleach pulled a handful of faerie dust from her pouch, sending the magic spearing towards Corinne like a valerian steel dagger.
Everything seemed to happen in an instant. Be
fore Corinne could react or move, a hefty blow to her side knocked her sprawling onto the hard earth, lungs empty and head spinning.
Around her, flashes of magic and shouts of alarm rent the air, but it took a minute for her vision to clear and her lungs to spasm back to life again. Am I dead? Using shaky muscles, she sat up and pinched herself. Which hurt.
No. Not dead. She shook her head, trying to clear the bright lights which clouded her vision.
And then her jaw dropped, and the bottom fell out of her world.
Lying on the grass beside her, blood pouring from a huge rent in his chest, was Elphin. Elphin, her brave friend who must've pushed her to safety and taken the witch's strike in her stead. Elphin, who had saved her life on more than one occasion—and now he'd done it again. But this time he'd made the ultimate sacrifice. Himself.
"No," she sobbed, tearing off her waistcoat and balling it against the wound. "Not you! It should've been me." Deep red blood oozed through her fingers as she tried desperately to stem the flow.
But Elphin's skin had paled, his lips turning blue and his breath thready. She was losing him. Just like in her dream.
Her heart twisted. "Don't die, Elphin, fight it, don't let her win!" Across at the other side of the court, the witch had disappeared, and in her place was a knot of fey folk, gazing curiously at the sad tableau on the grass in the middle of the court. "Help him!" she cried, but nobody met her frantic gaze, and nobody came to her aid.
In the corner of the clearing, the Bright King leaned forward on his throne, as if to see better, the tiniest of frowns creasing his high forehead.
"Help him, your majesty, please?" she pleaded, but the only response she got was the slightest tilt of the regal head.
A movement behind the king caught her eye, and the breath caught in her throat as the blue witch shuffled behind the throne. A shaft of alarm pierced Corinne's chest, and she crouched closer to Elphin to shield him. But the evil crone seemed intent on the Bright King, as if Corinne and Elphin were no longer of consequence now that the king was in her sights.
