Faerie Path #6: The Charmed Return

by Frewin Jones

  She dropped to his side. He lifted his exhausted face to her. The effort of forcing them through the barriers between the worlds had cost him.

  She reached a hand toward his cheek, but he swatted it away, his lips tightening. The silver in his eyes had changed to a sickly off-white, cold and lifeless as stone.

  “Leave me!” he snarled. “Go! Get out of here!”

  Fear tugged her. “Edric . . . ?”

  “Get away from me!” he howled, his whole body shaking. “Go and do what you came here to do! Otherwise it’s all been pointless.” He reared up on his knees, throwing his hands over his ears. “No! Be silent! I won’t listen!”

  Tania guessed that he was hearing the voices—the evil voices that swarmed in the Dark Arts. But what were they saying to him? Come to us. Be one with us. Surrender yourself to us.

  “I won’t leave you like this!” Tania shouted.

  Edric dropped onto his hands, gasping for breath. He looked up at her, his eyes shadowed by his hair. “The journey exhausted me, but I will be all right.” He gulped in more breath, his fingers clawing at the ground. “Go and confront Lear while . . . while the light is strong within you. It will not last long; it burns too fiercely.” He grimaced. “Please, Tania—go!”

  Hands drew her to her feet, Rathina on one side and the princess on the other.

  “Trust he will survive,” said the princess. “We have other matters to attend.” She stared into Tania’s eyes. “Look at the children, my friend. See how they shine!”

  She was right. The five girls had formed a circle around them—and they were blazing with a pure white light that seemed to flow through them like quicksilver and to pour like sunbeams from their eyes and fingertips.

  The princess was burning with the same heavenly light. Tania lifted her hand and saw the white beams shooting from her own fingertips.

  She turned to Jade, who was on the outskirts of the blazing group, looking awestruck. “Stay with Edric,” Tania called to her. “Make sure he’s all right.”

  Jade nodded.

  Tania turned to Rathina. “You should stay back as well,” she said. “If we fail, you have to get away from here! Hide from Lear. Keep yourself secret. Build an army to fight him.”

  Rathina’s eyes narrowed. “You have a power far beyond my ken,” she said. “I will do as you say, but if you cannot defeat Lear with the light that burns within you, then I fear his rule shall never be broken.”

  Tania took the princess’s hand. “We won’t fail,” she said, feeling even more potency flowing into her as their fingers linked.

  “He is in the Throne Room,” said Georgina, taking Tania’s other hand. “I see him in my mind.”

  “I think he knows we’re here,” added Marjorie, taking Georgina’s hand. “He’s sitting there waiting for us. He’s not scared of us at all.”

  “Then let’s make him scared,” said Tania as the other girls also joined hands.

  Linked by their hands, the seven girls began to run down the long grassy hillside toward the endless battlements and rooftops of the Royal Palace. As they ran, the light washed around them, strange as starshine, wild as the moon, potent as the noonday sun.

  Sad sights met Tania as they came closer to the palace. The beautiful gardens that lay before the Royal Apartments had a stain upon them that made her heart ache. All along the yellow pathways the grass was dug-over and seeded with graves. The plague had claimed many lives here. Bereavement and despair hung in the air.

  The dead of Faerie shouldn’t be under the earth. They should fly to Albion.

  The fact that the survivors had no time for the proper funeral rites was shocking. Would those taken by the plague never get to the Blessèd Realm? And how were the people faring now that the Gildensleep shield was no more? What terrible toll of life had Lear’s sickness taken on Faerie?

  There’s no time to think about things like that! Maybe this can all be put right later. If we live through the next few minutes . . .

  Together the Seven who were One came in under the tall redbrick walls of the Palace. Wide brown steps led them to a gatehouse with double doors locked against them. But as they came to the top step, the locks burst on the arched doors and they swung smoothly open.

  They came into an entrance hall, the light they gave off splashing high on the sculpted walls. There were green and white tiles beneath their feet. Tall candelabrum lined the way to a staircase of carved wood.

  Where were the merry courtiers who had gladdened this place? Where were the music and the laughter and the chatter of winged children? The rich gowns of the Faerie ladies and the flashing crystal swords of their gallant lords?

  Tania shivered and felt that same shiver run through the other Six.

  “Don’t be scared,” she said, and at the same moment from the mouths of all the other girls came the same words.

  “Don’t be scared.”

  It’s like we’re blending—become more and more a single person. A single being with seven minds and seven hearts and seven souls.

  The Power of Seven.

  They swept up the stairs and made their way through empty galleries and hallways toward the Throne Room.

  As they came closer, Tania became aware that their light was fading—as though some premature night was being conjured within the Palace—a wicked, vile night filled with ghosts and terrors.

  They stood at the tall closed doors of the Throne Room, their pure white light beset all around by the dark. In the gloomy corridor Tania could see half-formed shapes moving. There were hideous, leering faces with long forked tongues and hungry eyes. Hands and claws tried to reach into the light. But the glow burned them, and the hands were snatched away with howls of frustration and pain.

  Monstrous, humped shapes lurched around them with fiendish yellow eyes. Laughter gurgled from gaping throats. Eyes watched.

  Fearlessly the Seven moved forward together. The doors trembled but remained closed.

  Tania felt an intense hostility pushing against her from within the Throne Room. She concentrated her mind and pushed back. The doors quivered and opened a crack, revealing a thread of lurid red light.

  A voice rang out from behind the doors. “Tania—help!” It was her Mortal mother, her words echoing and re-echoing.

  And then Clive Palmer’s voice sounded. “Please, Tania. We need you—help us. The light you’re giving off is hurting our eyes!”

  Edric’s voice called. “Let go of the others, Tania—that’s the only way to stop our pain! We’ll be killed otherwise. And it will be your fault!”

  “No!” Seven voices rang out in chorus. “It isn’t you!”

  “It is us, Tania,” called Mary Palmer’s voice. “He came through to the Mortal World—he trapped us and brought us here. He says he will kill us unless you surrender yourself to him.”

  “He means it!” Jade’s voice. “He’ll kill us, Tania—he’s not kidding around. Give up, Tania—otherwise we’re all dead.”

  “If you love us, let the others go,” called Tania’s father. “Let go of their hands. You know they’re all going to die anyway. What does it matter when?”

  “They’re all going to die, Tania,” came Edric’s voice. “You’re damaged goods, Tania; you’re a half-thing. You never should have been born.”

  The voices beat at Tania’s mind like hammer blows. They’re not real! They’re not real! These were tricks and deceits sent out to keep the Seven from entering the Throne Room beyond the closed doors.

  Lear must fear them!

  Tania took a deep breath. “Shut! Up!” she howled, and the others howled with her. The light blazed out from them, and the doors of the Throne Room burst inward in shattered splinters.

  The long room was lit by a macabre red glow, the color of blood. A host of candles flickered across the floor, like a thousand ghost lights writhing over a tormented graveyard. A slender path of darkness threaded through the candles, leading to the King’s throne.

  The throne itself was
shrouded in gloom. A figure sat there in deep darkness. Tania felt malicious eyes on her. She sensed a mind brimming with hatred.

  “Welcome, niece,” said a deep, husky voice. “I have been expecting you.” There was a low laugh. “Come, would you embrace your uncle, child? Would’st thou nestle in the arms of one who has longed for this moment for more years than you can imagine?”

  Tania felt the pressure of the darkness all around her—all around the Seven.

  “It hurts!” came Ann’s gasping voice. “It hurts in my chest!” Her voice rose to a wail. “Bess! Help me! I can’t breathe!”

  And Flora’s voice cried out, “Burning! Burning! Burning! Daddy! Dadd-ee-ee!”

  Tania felt their power dwindling as the dark pounded away at them.

  She heard Gracie choking and turned to see the girl bent over, coughing up water.

  With a cry Georgina began to twitch and contort—writhing and screaming as invisible hooves beat at her.

  “All is lost,” groaned the princess, and suddenly her hand was weak in Tania’s grip. All the strength and purpose were gone from her eyes, and her face was pale and withered again, plague-wracked and close to death.

  The light was fading. The Power of Seven was breaking apart.

  She could hear Marjorie moaning softly, her breath bubbling as though her throat were filling with blood.

  They had not struck a single blow against him. Lear was ripping them to pieces.

  No! Not like this! I won’t let it end like this!

  Gripping the hands of Georgina and the princess, Tania ran forward down the path of darkness. The others came with them, brought along in their wake, crying and groaning.

  Tania focused her mind on their light, seeing it in her mind like a spring coiling and coiling—tighter and tighter—straining to burst.

  They were almost at the throne now. Lear was leaning back, watching her with dark, impassive eyes.

  The sight of his face was shocking. So much of Oberon was there! But oh—how warped, how deformed and twisted! His hair and beard were grizzled, and his features were webbed with fine lines, like veins under the parchment skin.

  The simple white crown of Faerie lay on his head at a careless angle, as though he mocked the very thing he had so long desired. His eyes were dark and deep-set, like storm clouds, and his lips seemed to be caught in a permanent sneer.

  “It seems that you have some powers, niece,” he said. “Some little powers.”

  “Yes! We do!” Tania shouted, six other voices calling out in chorus with hers. Tania let loose the coiled spring of light.

  It blasted out of her, roaring and rushing as it beat against Oberon’s evil brother like a tidal wave.

  “No!” shouted Lear.

  Tania gasped for breath as the flood of white light hammered into the throne.

  They had the power. They could defeat him!

  The cascade of white light began to diminish, to dim and fade away.

  She felt weak and drained.

  There was mocking laughter. Lear sat at his ease in the great Throne of Faerie, smiling a little. He was unharmed—unaffected by their attack.

  “And did you think ’twould be so easy to thwart me, niece?” he said. “A fool, and seven times the fool, you are!” He lifted his right arm, and a red fire flowed upward from it. “Give greetings to your kinfolk, Tania Aurealis—for you are about to join them!”

  Red light spewed out above the throne and Tania saw a sight that stopped her heart.

  Suspended in the air over Lear’s head were five amber globes—five amber prisons. And trapped inside were the King and the Queen, Eden, Hopie, and Sancha.

  “And now, seventh child of my loving brother, you shall join your family in the sleepless death!” A ball of amber light ignited in Lear’s fist. “A sweet good night, my child—may demons gnaw at thee until the end of the world!”

  Lear flung the amber ball toward her. She was thrown backward off her feet by the impact and an avalanche of yellow flame engulfed her.

  Part Three:

  The Festival of

  the Pure Eclipse

  Chapter XVII

  Tania’s body and mind were engulfed in amber flames. Her back arched, her arms spreading wide. She was hanging suspended in the air by Lear’s sorceries. There was no floor under her feet. There were no hands holding her hands.

  A voice chanted through the flames.

  “Faeries tread the Faerie Path

  The amber vessel will not hold

  The princess with the heart of gold

  When true love foils usurper’s wrath!

  “The Power of Seven fragile be

  When beset by foe of bloody hue

  But love shall tame the deeper blue

  Dark Arts shall set the Princess free.”

  Blue flames licked among the yellow, weak at first, coming and going, as though struggling to survive. But gradually the blue grew stronger until there was more blue than amber—until all at once the amber fire was snuffed out and Tania dropped jarringly to the ground, her legs collapsing under her.

  “Tania!” It was Edric’s voice, calling from the doorway. “You have the strength! You must do it! I will hold Lear’s power in check for as long as I can—but you must strike him down.”

  She stumbled to her feet. “How?”

  “Take the crown!”

  Lear’s voice roared like a furnace. “Never!”

  Amber contended again with the blue, the flames like interlocked fingers struggling against one another.

  Amid the flames Tania sought focus. She looked around herself. The six girls were with her in the amber fire, blazing with such light that they were little more than bleached silhouettes in the flames. But each stood alone and none were holding hands any longer.

  Tania struggled to move her limbs—to gain some control of herself. It was like fighting floodwater. Every twitch of a finger or foot was bought only by huge effort. But she would not give up.

  She turned her head. Edric stood just inside the doors of the Throne Room, bathed in blue light, Jade to one side, Rathina to the other. And from Edric’s outstretched hands, a geyser of blue fire was gushing toward her.

  Together! She could hear Edric’s voice in her head now. Together we can defeat him!

  “Yes!”

  Tania waded forward into the amber flames, buoyed up by the blue-white light.

  The six girls followed, forming a semicircle behind her, their potency guiding her, driving her forward as she came to the steps of the throne.

  Lear was leaning forward now, his knuckles white as he gripped the arms of the throne, his face contorted and hideous as he fought against both the white and the blue light.

  He stared at her as she stood in front of him, his head thrust forward, his lips drawn back in a feral snarl.

  Supported by light and love, Tania reached forward, beams of white spinning out from her fingertips.

  Lear’s eyes followed her, but he did not move—as though he was pinned to the throne by a force he could not overthrow.

  He howled as she closed her fingers around the crown and lifted it from his head.

  Words came into her mind and she spoke them aloud, the incantation pouring from her mouth on a shaft of light.

  “Thy heart is a withered stone

  Thy soul groans aloud

  Let the four winds bear thee hence

  To whence thou came

  Broken vessel—shattered spirit

  Get thou back to Ynis Borealis

  And trouble us no more!”

  She lifted the crown high. “Ill fortune devour you, Prince Lear Aurealis! Thou art banished! Get you hence!”

  Lear tried to rise from the throne, but before he could move, the world was engulfed in a discharge of power that sent Tania spinning head over heels through a universe of howling white light.

  Tania stood in a place that was no place—in a white void. She was hand-in-hand with her other selves. She knew this was but a flee
ting moment before the children were to return to their own worlds and to their deaths.

  The princess stood opposite Tania. There was no hint or taint of illness in her radiant face, and her lilac Faerie gown was now fresh and lovely.

  “We shall meet again, when desperate need calls . . .” said the princess. “ . . . one final time. . . .”

  “Don’t be scared,” added Gracie. “We’ll help you.”

  “In darkest noon,” said Ann, her eyes dreamy, her breath coming easily, “by a gray river with banks of solid stone in a world set all afire . . .”

  The Six broke hands, and they were drawn back into the white void.

  “Thank you,” Tania called after them.

  She was alone now.

  She gave a deep sigh and turned, sidestepping away.

  Lear was gone.

  Wreaths of white smoke floated through the Throne Room, half shrouding the damage and chaos caused by the Banishing Spell. The throne itself was smashed to stone shards, pieces of it scattered across the floor among the fallen and snuffed candles. The tapestries that hung over the walls were ripped to shreds. The tall elegant windows had lost all their glass, and cracks ran up the marble frames.

  The only things undisturbed by the explosion of energy were the five amber prisons. They floated still in the upper air of the room, each with its pitiful captive.

  “That’s what I call a firework display!”

  Tania turned at the sound of Jade’s voice. Jade and Rathina and Edric were still by the door. Edric’s head was hanging.

  Tania ran to him. “Edric?”

  He lifted his head, his brown eyes unfocused, his face drained. “Is Lear gone?” he whispered.

  “I think he is,” said Tania.