Chronicle Worlds: Feyland

by Samuel Peralta

  Sitting on the grass beside him, she cradled his head on her lap, stroking the half-moon of his huge cheekbone. Apart from his horn, he seemed to look and behave very like a horse. And then a thought pulled her up short. Could he have been the white creature she was riding in her dream last night, the one that reminded her of Midnight?

  Chapter Four

  THE WILD HUNT

  You're confusing reality and virtuality again, Corinne. Get a grip. She shook her head. This game was confusing. And addictive. She was already wondering what her next quest would be.

  But, talking of quests, if she'd completed this one by taming the unicorn, why hadn't the goblin appeared to give her next mission?

  Running the riddle over in her mind, she tried to work out what she hadn't done, how she'd failed. Only the pure can see the pure, only the pure will find him. She'd found the unicorn now. Why hadn't she moved on to the next level? Surely a first quest like this shouldn't be so hard?

  She was still pondering the rhyme when a chilling noise reached her ears, and the unicorn's head jerked up.

  Hounds. Hounds baying like they were on a hunt. Like in my dream last night. She jumped up at the same time as the unicorn scrambled to his feet, shimmying his whole body to shake off the dust and then standing to attention, ears pricked in the direction of the hunt.

  They were getting closer. Worryingly closer. She looked around. Nowhere to hide here. Then she looked at the unicorn. Could they be hunting him? Her insides turned to ice. Or her? Maybe the Bright Court faeries from yesterday somehow knew she was here, and were continuing their chase.

  A hoof stamped on the ground, attracting her attention. The unicorn was staring at her; looking her right in the eye. And then he turned his head, deliberately, and looked at his back, before staring meaningfully at her once more.

  "You want me to ride?" she asked breathlessly.

  He nodded his head and stamped a hoof again.

  Ride a unicorn? She felt faint at the thought. Never in her wildest dreams… Well, actually, she had dreamed it, hadn't she? Like a premonition. But how had the dream ended? Did we get away? She narrowed her eyes, wishing she could remember.

  The noise of the hunt followers was obvious now, not just the baying of their hounds. Breaking branches and the thunder of running hooves on peaty ground signalled their approach and quickened her pulse.

  Spotting a tall rock to use as a mounting block, she was about to slide onto the unicorn's back when a large creature burst through the bushes, and the unicorn spun to face this new threat.

  Swinging the bow from her shoulder, she had an arrow nocked before she recognised the intruder. It was Elphin, her rescuer from yesterday, his breeches snagged and tattered, twigs and leaves stuck in his unruly hair.

  He glanced from the unicorn to her, and she was surprised to see fear in his eyes. "Help me," he gasped, his lungs heaving.

  "They're after you?"

  He nodded, hands on his knees as he regained his breath.

  Corinne locked eyes with the unicorn, and he bobbed his head again, stepping back to the rock.

  "Quickly, over here." She motioned at the rock, and slid onto the unicorn's back. "He'll help us escape."

  * * *

  The unicorn splashed down the stream, before hopping up the bank. Masking our scent. Clever. Behind her, Elphin's breathing became less ragged and she wound her hands into the unicorn's mane as he cantered off through the trees. "Hold on!" she cried, unnecessarily, as Elphin's grip around her waist became vise-like.

  Branches whipped around them as they careened through the forest, and more than once she had to duck down over the animal's neck to avoid being swept off its back by a low branch. Behind her, Elphin mirrored her every move as she crouched forward to keep balanced while the unicorn ran, or leaned back when they travelled downhill.

  But the hounds were relentless. No matter how fast the unicorn galloped, they couldn't seem to lose the fearsome hunters. Eerie howling and baying echoed through the trees, punctuated at intervals by a creepily atonal hunting horn.

  Got to do something about this. Swinging the bow off her shoulders, she twisted round, then recoiled in horror. It was like the hounds of hell were after them; the dark huntsman on his black stallion frenziedly driving the slavering dogs whose savage teeth and glowing red eyes were mere yards behind them.

  "Who are they? What are they?"

  "The Wild Hunt," Elphin shouted, his voice higher-pitched than usual.

  Nothing about this sounds good. What on earth was going on in this game? She clenched her jaw and aimed into the pack.

  Her first arrows went wide of the mark, but after a couple of tries she got the knack of aiming, and managed to hit one of their pursuers. Wounded, it landed at the side of the track with a yelp of surprise. But the rest of the hounds just kept running, their pace not faltering. She ground her teeth. There aren't enough arrows in my quiver to injure all of them.

  "How can we escape them?"

  "I do not know."

  Then inspiration struck. She turned towards him. "What about your magical cloak?"

  He shook his head. "They hunt by smell, not sight. So it will be of no use."

  She put a hand on the unicorn's shoulder, feeling its muscles ripple and bunch as it powered underneath them, making the double burden seem effortless. But he'd eventually tire, she knew that. She glanced behind them again.

  The unicorn's long, flowing tail streamed behind them like a lure, and the hounds who followed their every twist and turn were getting close—too close!

  Corinne swung her bow off her shoulder again, just as a particularly large and vicious grey beast snapped his yellow fangs at the unicorn's hocks, snagging a part of his tail and ripping some of the silvery hairs with a blood-curdling snarl.

  The unicorn almost stumbled, and, acting on instinct, Corinne loosed an arrow at the savage hound. It arced through the air and felled the beast, a green-feathered arrow protruding from its chest.

  "Well done!" said Elphin, and she gave a grim smile.

  But the near-miss reminded Corinne of an old Burns poem they'd studied at school, where Tam O'Shanter's mare had been chased by witches and lost her tail before they escaped. She leaned forward and whispered in the unicorn's ear. "Is there a river somewhere? With a bridge? Maybe they can't cross running water."

  An ear flicked to catch her words, and the unicorn changed direction. A minute later they turned onto a dirt road leading through the forest towards distant purple hills. His hooves hammering, the unicorn surged forward, straining to put some extra distance between them and the hunt.

  * * *

  Elphin exhaled sharply. "Look!"

  The trees were thinning now, and in the distance great clouds of white spray plumed overhead, the air shimmering with hundreds of effervescent rainbows. The sound of thundering water drummed in Corinne's ears but her heart quailed as they approached the powerful waterfall. "I—I can't swim," she gasped.

  "Trust him," Elphin said, pointing at the unicorn. "He's taken us this far."

  Underfoot, the surface had changed and they were now riding along a cobbled road, which became slippery as they neared the water. The unicorn checked his pace, and dropped to a trot as they entered the mist and inclined upwards.

  Glancing down, Corinne's stomach leaped into her mouth when she saw the great drop below them to her left. But, somehow, they were arching over it, as if dancing on air.

  "Rainbow Bridge," Elphin whispered. "I had heard of it, but never…"

  Reaching the other side, the unicorn stopped and spun round.

  Across the fearsome chasm, dark shapes howled their frustration and the grim antlered huntsman gnashed his teeth in anger.

  It worked! Maybe that poem was based on truth, after all.

  Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around the unicorn's neck, burying her face in his mane. "Good boy. Thank you."

  "Yes, you have my eternal gratitude, brave creature." Elphin patted its flank. "You
saved my life."

  "We should get off now. Give him a rest."

  But before they could move, the unicorn stamped a foot and spun round to face away from the river again. He raised his head and stared at a distant hill, before setting off at a brisk trot.

  * * *

  As they climbed the small hill, Corinne could see trees above them, and when they crested the rise, she realised that they were rowans. Rowans planted in a circle around the summit, like a silvery crown, the air at their centre shimmering slightly in the heat of the afternoon. A special place.

  The unicorn stopped, and looked round at her.

  Throwing her right leg up over its neck, she slid off, then stepped forward as Elphin dismounted behind her.

  The unicorn dropped his muzzle into her palm, and she fondled his ears. "Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you so much for saving us, and for letting me ride you. It's been—it's been…"

  A lump rose in her throat. It had reminded her of riding Midnight: of the special bond they had, of the way he could seem to read her mind. But she couldn't put that into words. A tear trickled down her cheek, and the unicorn pushed his face into her arms. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for the memory."

  The unicorn snuffled her fingers one last time, then took a step backwards and looked each of them in the eye. With one final bob of his head, he turned, paced sedately into the circle of trees, and—disappeared.

  Chapter Five

  THE IMPOSSIBLE

  Corinne's jaw dropped open, and she rushed forward. "Wait!" she cried, but Elphin grabbed her arm to still her headlong flight.

  "You cannot follow," he said, turning her towards him. "His task here is complete."

  Another tear spilled down her face, chasing the first one. Elphin reached out a finger and brushed it gently away.

  "M—maybe it's because I completed my quest," she said, trying to convince herself.

  "Perhaps," he agreed, but his orange eyes looked troubled.

  She stared at his pockmarked face. He was still strange-looking and ugly, but how could she ever have been scared of him? "Will you be okay now? Will the hunt leave you alone?"

  He turned and looked back towards the forest. "I hope so." Then he sniffed the air and glanced up at the sky. "But the hour is late. I must go."

  She sighed. "So should I. I must be way over my time"

  He jerked his chin to the left. "Over there is a faerie ring."

  Sure enough, a circle of polka-dot mushrooms poked through the grass nearby. "W—will you be in-game tomorrow?"

  His eyes clouded. "Yes."

  "See you tomorrow, then?"

  He nodded solemnly. "I hope so."

  * * *

  "Thanks for dinner," Corinne said, pushing her chair back from the table. She helped her mother stack dishes in the dishwasher, then glanced at the clock on the wall. "I think I'll go for a little walk before bedtime. Stretch my legs."

  "Good idea, after being inside all day," agreed her mother.

  If only she knew!

  Twenty minutes later, Corinne was striding up Chessaig hill as the evening light faded from the sky and the sun sank into the horizon. I'll just visit Midnight's place, then I'll head home. The events of the day whirled around her brain, scrambled memories and hyper-real sensations returning to her as she walked. How could a game seem so lifelike? But Feyland certainly was addictive. She'd have to see if she could wangle her way back to the sim cafe tomorrow, and find her next quest.

  Pushing through the rowan trees in the almost-dark of the gloaming, her mind on the game, she suddenly stumbled to a halt, unable to believe the sight that met her eyes.

  Grazing peacefully on the lush grass on the centre of the hilltop was a grey horse. A beautiful, untethered animal with no sign of headcollar or bridle.

  She spun around, eyes scanning the gloom, searching for its owner. But nobody was in sight.

  The horse's head raised when he saw her, and he took a step towards her, liquid brown eyes staring intently into her own.

  No! It couldn't be. Could it?

  The grey took another step forward, and dropped his muzzle into her hand, snuffling at her fingers.

  Her heart stopped. This was impossible, wasn't it? He must be a ghost.

  But a very real, very solid nose nudged her in the ribs, and a very real, very elegant head jerked in the direction of the path.

  Not a ghost. Just something impossible and amazing.

  She swallowed. "Okay, boy. You want to go with me?"

  He bobbed his head.

  Taking a deep breath, she put a hand on his neck. "This way," she said, and they set off down the hill towards the stables, together.

  EPILOGUE

  From the shadow of the trees, Elphin watched them go, his heart heavy.

  He could tell the girl carried a burden of sorrow, and that she cared very deeply for horses. Maybe the unicorn will be good for her, in her real world. He wanted her to be happy, he truly did.

  But, watching them disappear into the gloaming, a niggle of worry ate at his soul. What if she was so happy with the grey that she never returned to Feyland? What if he never saw her again?

  What would become of him then?

  She didn't know—couldn't know—that their fates were inextricably linked; that Feyland wasn't the simple game she seemed to think it was. But he knew, to his cost, just how treacherous the fey realm could be. And he knew, now, that he needed her help to escape his dark fate.

  As the horse and the girl vanished from sight, he squared his shoulders and turned back towards the forest. He couldn't change what Corinne would choose to do; he could only hope.

  Hope.

  And dream.

  A Word from Roz Marshall

  At last year's Edinburgh International Book Festival, I picked up a book on Scottish myths and legends. I was spellbound. Some of those stories kindled my imagination and made me look at my homeland through fresh eyes.

  Living in Scotland is awesome. Soaring mountains, inky lochs, thousand-acre skies—just looking at our scenery is an inspiration in itself. And folk tales abound—perhaps a relic of a time when the only thing to do in the long dark winter nights was to sit around the fire and spin a yarn.

  It was around this time that I was reading Anthea Sharp's Feyland, and thinking about a contribution for Samuel Peralta's Chronicle Worlds anthology. Nearly everything I write is set in Scotland, so it seemed natural to combine the two, and to use some of our stories about the 'fairy folk' to inspire my Feyland piece.

  But as I wrote about Corinne and Elphin, I realised that their full story couldn't be told in five thousand words. They had a bigger tale to tell—a tale that will awaken ambitions, enmity and sleeping kings. In the end, I drafted outlines for a four-part series, The Celtic Fey. Part two, 'Kelpie Curse', should be available now, and parts three and four will be published soon after. You can check those out on Amazon or on my website: www.rozmarshall.co.uk/books.

  As a long-time 'resident' of virtual reality world Second Life, I'm no stranger to online gaming. So I loved writing in this universe that combined tech and fable. Oh—and I loved writing about the unicorn. It probably won't be a surprise to readers that, outside of writing, my main spare time activity is horse riding…

  Thank-you for reading; thank-you to Samuel for putting together this amazing anthology; and thank-you to Anthea for letting us join her in the fabulous Feyland!

  City of Iron and Light

  by Jon Frater

  SABINE COULDN’T RID THE SMELL of singed hobgoblin from her nostrils. It presented her with a stark contrast: the smell of burnt fur combined with the rolling emerald hills of Feyland. Sycamore and larch trees stood in small groves on both sides of the wide earthen path which lay before them, like sentinels who guarded travelers.

  Jonny Wonderful’s voice was a constant as they walked. The hobgoblins had succumbed quickly, he’d said, due to his fine art of tanking and taunting. Not once did he compliment her use of fire bolts t
o chase the hobgoblins off. That rankled her worse than the smell. She didn’t look forward to hearing her questing partner lecture her all the way to the marketplace.

  Jonny talked a lot, usually about himself. He'd managed to tweak the game character setup to give himself crazily elaborate green armor, flowing hair, and pointed ears. She was willing to put up with the grandeur of his company, but only to a certain point.

  Finally, she snapped. “Do I have to remind you how we met?” she asked.

  “I remember it clearly,” he said, as they hiked down a wide road. A stiff breeze rose, dampening the heat of the summer sun. “I had taken a charge to retrieve a lost cow and found myself ambushed by brigands. Struggle though I did, there were too many for me to vanquish alone. I was subdued and treated barbarically.”

  Sabine chuckled with the memory. “I found you buried up to your chin in mud, and passersby were being invited to saw at your neck with a bamboo sword.”

  “So it was,” Jonny agreed. “For days, nay, weeks, I lingered between life and death. And then, in the distance, I observed a vision of truth and beauty, a Spellweaver with steel in her eyes, a mane of fire, and robes the colors of the rainbow, who bore a fearsome skill with word and staff—”

  “Dude,” she sighed, “stop the flattery. I saved you because I wanted to. I’m working with you because I want to. You tag and tank the mobs, I nuke them. We have a good system. Don’t ruin it.”

  “My sincerest apologies, my lady,” Jonny demurred with a flourish and a bow. He even managed to make his nose touch his knees. Sabine wondered absently if there was a game command to do that. She’d have to look.

  She did like Jonny, despite his silly name and obsequious personality. He fought well and told great stories. He helped make the game that much more interesting and no matter where she logged in from, he was always waiting for her nearby. She’d been playing in Feyland a lot more since meeting him.