Faerie Path #6: The Charmed Return

by Frewin Jones

  Anita gazed into his face. When I went to bed last night, I was Anita and he was Evan. But now he’s Edric and I’m . . . ? Who am I? What am I? And what is he? Not even human—not really. Immortal? What does that mean? I wish I could remember something. I’d give anything to remember.

  “To our astonishment, the only wakeful creature on that wide beach was the Great Salamander, deadly servant of the evil brigand Balor,” said Rathina, picking up the story. “I lifted my sword, expecting the beast to attack us. But it made no move. ‘Do not fear me,’ it said, and it had a voice that rumbled and hissed most ferociously. ‘I do not fear you!’ I declared. ‘As you shall learn swift enough if you do not tell us what has become of my sister. Speak the truth, monster,’ I said. ‘Where is the princess Tania? If you have devoured her, you shall die upon this moment!’ And the monster spoke again. ‘Princess Tania has flown to the land of Tirnanog that lies in the western skies,’ it said. ‘She is unhurt. She is with the Divine Harper.’ And so saying, it turned its long head westward into the sunset. ‘Have patience, she will return.’”

  They were gathered at the kitchen table: Rathina, Edric, Jade, Mrs. Palmer, and Anita. She was clinging to her mother’s hand as Edric and Rathina spoke. Her father was moving around the table, placing cups of tea in front of everyone.

  “And we waited,” said Edric. “But Tania never came back. Then, just as the sun set, we heard thunder and lightning and a noise like a rough sea—but we didn’t see anything. The ocean was calm and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. Rathina asked the Salamander if it knew what was happening.”

  Rathina broke in. “‘Great and portentous events!’ the beast declared. ‘I know not what it betokens, but the sounds that you hear issue from the airy land of Tirnanog. A storm rages there.’”

  “A storm . . .” murmured Anita, touching her hand to her forehead. A stream of images had glimmered for a moment in her mind. A beach of golden sand. A long white stone. A harp. An old man with apple cheeks and gray hair and beard. And there was music—discordant music that blended with lightning, clouds, and crashing waves.

  “Do you remember?” asked Edric, leaning eagerly toward her across the table.

  “Something . . . just pictures in my head. I don’t know what they mean.”

  “And as the unseen storm raged in our ears, so Master Connor came suddenly awake,” said Rathina. “Wild-eyed and terrified. He jumped to his feet as though fey with madness. ‘Traitor!’ I called him, lifting my sword and prepared to smite him to the heart for the wrong he had done to us. But my blow never fell. For he screamed and writhed and fell upon the ground as though beset by demons. It was a fearful thing to see, forsooth!”

  “There was a moment when he seemed to be out of pain,” said Edric. “He looked up at us and he said, ‘Who are you? Where am I?’”

  “And then he was gone!” said Rathina, spreading her hands. “Like rain upon a hot stone. Quite vanished away!” She frowned. “Banished, I trust, to some deadly place where he will do penance for all eternity!”

  “He’s here,” said Anita breathlessly. “He’s in London.”

  Rathina sprang up, knocking against the table, rattling the cups and spilling tea. “Then lead me to him, sister—and I’ll split him throat to vitals for his perfidy!”

  “He doesn’t remember anything,” said Anita, looking up at Rathina. “He told me the last thing he remembers is the two of us going to his flat. Then it’s all blank till he woke up this morning.”

  “Lies to mask his deceits, I’ll warrant!” said Rathina as Mr. Palmer took a cloth to wipe up the splashes of tea.

  “Not necessarily,” said Edric. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that neither Tania nor Connor remembers anything about Faerie. I’d guess that whatever power destroyed Tania’s memory and sent her here did exactly the same to Connor.”

  “The Divine Harper, you mean?” said Mrs. Palmer.

  “Who else?” asked Edric. “He locked up all their memories of Faerie and then sent them back into their own world.”

  “A strange and uncanny creature he must be,” muttered Rathina, “dwelling in the clouds and dispensing a form of justice beyond my ken. Was Tania punished for seeking his help? Is that what happened in Tirnanog?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Edric. “The Divine Harper seeks balance in all things. You give something to get something.” He looked urgently at Anita. “I’m sure if we can find a way to get Tania to remember who she is, the memory of what the Divine Harper told her will be there as well.”

  “Excuse me,” broke in Mr. Palmer, dropping the cloth into the sink, “but I think my daughter already knows who she is.”

  Mrs. Palmer looked uneasy. Rathina frowned at him. “Indeed she does not, Master Clive—all her Faerie self slumbers.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” said Anita’s father, looking from Rathina to Edric. “I’d like it to stay that way. So, whatever conjuring tricks you’re thinking of using on my daughter, I’d prefer that you leave her be.” His voice trembled with suppressed anger. “Hasn’t she done enough for you . . . people?” He stabbed a finger at Edric. “You! You’re supposed to love her. Well, show it! She was a happy, normal girl till you turned up.”

  “Clive . . . ?” Mary Palmer’s voice was quiet but firm. “I don’t think it’s as simple as that.”

  His face pleaded. “We’ve got her back. How can you want her to go through all that chaos and heartbreak again?”

  “I don’t,” said Mrs. Palmer. “But she’s needed. A baby virtually died in my arms, Clive—a little baby. And more people are dying now. If Tania can help, we can’t stand in the way. How could we live with ourselves?”

  “And how do we know she hasn’t already done what she set out to do?” asked Mr. Palmer. “How do we know this Harper didn’t grant her wishes and put an end to the illness?”

  “We cannot know that for sure, Master Clive,” said Rathina. “Not unless we can return to Faerie—and that we cannot do without Tania. Only she has the gift of walking between the worlds.”

  “Uh, excuse me!” Jade raised a tentative hand. “I know I’m the newcomer here, but Evan . . . I mean Edric—Edric found a way to get from Faerie to here, didn’t he? Why can’t he do the same thing backward and go take a look in Faerie?”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” said Edric. “I was able to get here because I was focusing on Tania, on being with her, on our feelings for each other. That’s what pulled me through. And even then I needed the Salamander’s help. There’s no way I can punch through back into Faerie.”

  “And ’tis worse by far than that!” added Rathina solemnly. “For the ways between the worlds have been sealed by the Conclave of Earls. Even were Tania in her right mind, I fear she could not get through by merely sidestepping. Not from here. We would need to travel from this place and find a land where the power of the Faerie lords does not hold sway. And from there, once we had passed from this world to our own, we would need to take a ship to return to our home.” She frowned. “Days and weeks could be squandered in such an endeavor!”

  “You are not taking my daughter on a wild-goose chase to another country,” declared Clive Palmer. “This nonsense stops here.” He pointed a shaking finger from Edric to Rathina. “I want you out of my house!” he said. “You’re not welcome here!”

  “You would condemn all of Faerie to despair?” Rathina gasped.

  “To save my daughter? Yes, I would!”

  “No, Dad!” It made Anita’s heart ache to see how this was affecting her father. He turned to her, his face full of fear. “I don’t want that. I have to help if I can!”

  He stared at her, then fumbled for the back door, walking unsteadily out into the garden.

  “I should go to him,” said Mrs. Palmer. She looked from Edric to Rathina. “He’s still not completely well,” she said. “This has been a great strain on him. He doesn’t mean to belittle your problems—he’s only thinking of Anita.”

  Anita
got up from the table. “I’ll go be with him,” she said to her mother. “Stay here, please.”

  “I’ll make some more tea,” her mother said with a nod.

  Anita walked to the open back door. Her father was down by the rosebush, his shoulders slumped.

  “Jade? Does your mum know you’re here?” she heard her mother say.

  “Not exactly, Mrs. P,” Jade replied. “I kind of skipped out before she got home. The lily pond got wrecked. I need time to come up with a plausible explanation for what happened. Don’t worry about it—it’ll be fine.”

  The voices faded out of Anita’s consciousness. She could think only about her father now. She stepped into the garden and walked toward him.

  “Dad?”

  She had been beside him for close to half a minute, and he hadn’t looked at her once, nor said a single word. His hands were pushed deep into his pockets and his head was down, caught up in his own thoughts.

  The lawn was churned by tire tracks. The back fence broken. Physical proof that Faerie was real—that Anita Palmer was also Princess Tania Aurealis.

  “The roses are doing well this year,” her father murmured. “This particular strain is called Deep Secret. It’s a hybrid tea rose. I bought it for the fragrance.” His voice cracked with emotion. “You always loved the smell of roses when you were a child.”

  She stooped toward the dark red roses and breathed in deeply so the powerful, sweet scent filled her head. “I still do,” she said gently. She reached out to him, tugging his reluctant hand out of his pocket and twining her fingers with his. “You hate all this, don’t you? All this Faerie stuff?”

  “I hate what it does to you,” he said. “You don’t remember how it was tearing you apart. This is the first time since your birthday that you’ve been yourself. And now . . .” He choked and was unable to continue.

  She squeezed his hand, folding her other hand around his arm and pressing close against his side. A thick lump filled her throat.

  There were tears in his voice when he spoke again. “I’m afraid I’ll lose you,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re going to go away from me and never come back.”

  “I’ll never do that.”

  “You can’t make that promise. You don’t know.”

  “Well, that’s certainly true.” Anita sighed. “In fact, apart from Jade, I’m the only one here who doesn’t know a single thing about Faerie.” She looked into his eyes. “You and Mum have been there, Dad! You’ve seen stuff I’ve totally forgotten. It’s all just words to me right now—but you know it’s real.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I’m part of their world, Dad, even though I can’t remember it. They came and found me because they know I can help. I can’t let them down.”

  He smiled bleakly. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

  She clung to him. “This whole thing is unbelievably scary, Dad. I need you on my side so that I can do whatever it takes to help them.” She looked into his face. “I’m not a big hero, Dad—I’m totally freaked—but a whole country full of people needs me.” She could almost have laughed! Saying it out loud didn’t help at all. It still sounded insane.

  Her father looked at her. “So? You want my blessing? Is that what you need from me?”

  She squeezed his hand even more tightly. “Please.”

  “Then you have it,” he said.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

  Muffled cries sounded from the house. Edric appeared at the back door and called to them.

  “It’s Zara. She’s awake!”

  Chapter IX

  Anita ran in from the garden.

  Zara was standing in the kitchen doorway, flanked by Rathina and Edric, her flowing Faerie gown a stark contrast to their everyday clothes. Her face was drained of color, but her eyes had a new light in them.

  “Come in, Zara,” said Mrs. Palmer, pulling out a chair from the table. “How are you feeling?”

  “I feel newborn. . . .” murmured Zara, sitting down.

  “May I get you a drink?” Edric suggested, moving to the fridge.

  Zara nodded. “By your courtesy, Master Chanticleer.”

  Anita was aware of an air of suppressed excitement in the room, as though everyone was being careful not to overwhelm the pale princess with their attention.

  Anita stepped forward, and Zara seemed to notice her for the first time.

  “Tania!” she said, and her voice was strong and happy. “I have seen you so often in my mind—but I never dared hope to embrace you more!” She jumped up and ran into Anita’s arms.

  “I don’t remember you. . . .” Anita said awkwardly, folding her arms stiffly around the girl. “I’m sorry.” She gave Edric an uneasy look over Zara’s back.

  “It matters not,” said Zara. “You were in the same pickle when first you came into Faerie. And a merry time we had of it convincing you of your birthright then!”

  “Indeed,” Rathina added, smiling. “Most stubborn you were!”

  “There is no need of persuasion this time,” said Zara. “Be seated, sister mine, and we shall see what we shall see.”

  “I’m sorry?” Anita said.

  Zara laughed. “Sit! Sit! I would run barefoot through your mind.” Quite gently, but purposefully, she pressed Anita into a chair. “I will return your memories to you, Tania. I have new skills now that I am . . .” She paused, her face clouding for a moment. “But no matter. Let’s to business.”

  Anita looked anxiously at Edric.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said, resting the forgotten glass of milk on the table and crouching at her side. “And if this works . . .”

  “I’ll remember?”

  He nodded.

  Jade looked dubious. “Is this going to be like one of those TV shows where some guy hypnotizes people into thinking they’re chickens?” she asked.

  “Hush,” Rathina murmured. “I know not what is coming.”

  The kitchen became silent. Anita was aware of all eyes on her. Her father and mother were standing together at the back door, watchful but unspeaking.

  Anita felt Zara’s hands come down lightly upon her head.

  For a few moments nothing happened. Then Zara began very softly to sing.

  “Spirits of love, let the lost child return

  Spirits of joy, make her gentle and strong

  Spirits of air, let her thrive and grow

  Spirits of blood, let her veins be warm

  “Spirits of fire, light a spark in her green eyes

  Let it grow in your eternal flame

  Spirits of life, let her remember times past

  Bring her back to herself and to me

  “Spirits of water, flow through her and make her whole

  In the sea that has no shore, the sea of memory

  Let her swim in you and know you and love you

  Let her learn and become and be

  “Spirits of earth, let her walk again upon you

  Through the meadows of your land’s grace

  Let the sunlight shine upon her beloved face

  Let her true self run free”

  As Zara sang, Anita felt warmth rippling through her from the princess’s gentle hands. It seemed to her that Zara’s voice was joined by others—soft, dulcet voices and deep, sonorous voices all singing counterpoint and descant to the aching melody until her head was filled with song.

  An image poured into her mind like a flow of soft golden light. Endless green hills folding away to a blue horizon. And herself—hand-in-hand with Zara—running through the tall grass. Looking about them as they ran. Searching for something. It was an early morning and the dew was like honey on her bare feet and the singing was all around them.

  “It is not enough.” Zara’s voice was a sharp knife through the song. “I cannot do this thing alone. Master Edric—take her hand now.”

  Anita’s heart throbbed in her chest. A warm hand slipped into hers, and she felt enveloped in a deep love and understanding. In her vision she turned her h
ead, seeing with a rush of joy that Edric had appeared at her side, running through the pastures with her, searching with her.

  “And yet more,” said Zara. “Master Clive, Mistress Mary—lay your hands upon your daughter—she is in need of your love.”

  Anita felt hands coming to rest on her arms. From the blue infinity of the sky, her Mortal mother and father appeared beside her—running with her. Her heart filled with happiness.

  “Sister—she needs more. And you, Mortal girl, come, join the dance, let none hold back when all are needed.”

  Suddenly Rathina was there at her side in her vision, and Jade, also, staring around as though stunned to find herself in such a place.

  Is this real, then? I thought it was all in my head. . . .

  They were no longer running now. They were upon a hilltop crowned with huge blue crystals that threw out a vibrant light. It was night—a night of huge and pulsing stars. They were in a ring, hand-in-hand, dancing in a circle among the shining stones. The air was like spice and the grass was alive beneath their feet.

  Anita could feel the love of her family rushing through her. The love of her mother and father, the love of Jade and her Faerie sisters; and deepest of all, like a warm hand that cradled her heart, the love of her own Edric.

  Faster and faster they whirled, forming a chain that threaded in and out among the great blue crystal stones.

  Then there was no ground beneath her feet. She was soaring upward through the night.

  She was winged, alone, suspended in darkness, surrounded by stars.

  Every star was a memory, rushing at her in a hail of sharp light, pouring into her eyes, filling her mind.