Everbright

by Ken Altabef

  Moonshadow had never seen it before. Where did she get that?

  “Now I ask you, good people: Who will wear it?”

  The crowd broke into excited murmurs. No specific name rose above the rest. Dresdemona seemed disappointed. She placed the crown back down at her feet.

  “I’ll tell you who is going to wear that crown. Me!”

  Support rang out but some few notes of opposition too.

  “And so I issue this challenge, in the manner of the Winter Court and the traditions of Avalon itself—I challenge Moonshadow to a trial by combat, the winner to rule this brave new land and see its people through the travails to come.”

  Moonshadow found herself now the center of attention. All eyes turned her way, fingers pointed. She was not ready for this turn of events. She didn’t know what to say.

  “Where is she?” roared Dresdemona. She leaned forward and squinted down as if having a hard time visualizing so insignificant a speck. “Is she there? Moonshadow, I challenge you. Do you accept?”

  “I do accept all challenges,” she said, “But we don’t fight. We take a vote of the people over the incandenza.”

  “A vote? A vote cannot prove who is the stronger. A vote cannot show who is best fit to lead and fight for us. No, we shall have the blood duel and the sooner the better. Are you ready to fight me now? I see no reason to wait.”

  The platform lowered to just a few inches above the ground. Dresdemona gestured and Meadowlark scrambled from the stone slab, positioning his bare back as a step stool at her feet. Dresdemona stepped down. “So, Moonshadow, what say you?”

  Moonshadow glanced around. She had been surrounded by a mob of people, many of them members of the Winter Court. Too many. She began to get the idea this challenged had been no random event. It had been staged quite carefully. The people raised their fists in the air, urging her to fight. They stepped slowly closer, the circle closing in.

  “We don’t fight,” she said. “Not like that.”

  The platform thundered to the ground. Dresdemona stepped off Meadowlark’s back. “I am ready.”

  The crowd was closing in, chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

  “There shall be no fight!” Moonshadow insisted. “Let us remember who we are and how we do things.”

  “We are faery-folk,” said Pox, “and this is precisely how we do things.”

  He had somehow maneuvered himself very close to her. She backed slowly away.

  “No. No, it isn’t,” she said but words were not doing the trick.

  She pushed past him and walked swiftly toward the great ash tree and its portal to down below. Mocking laughter trailed behind her.

  Chapter 53

  Theodora heard herself moan. Then she woke up.

  The first thing she saw was her dear friend Moonshadow leaning over her.

  “Ohhh!” she said. “My head!”

  Moonshadow leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  Theodora tried to raise her head, then decided against it. Her whole body felt sore. She could hardly move. Her throat was dry as parchment.

  As if she had just read Theodora’s mind, and perhaps she had, Moonshadow handed her a cup. After a few sips of cool water, Theodora steadied herself. She recognized the healing room. Under the great ash. She’d fallen ill. During Midsummer’s Eve?

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Three days.”

  “Ugggh. Three days! I feel terrible!”

  “We think you were poisoned. What do you remember?”

  Theodora struggled to clear the fog from her mind. “I don’t know exactly what happened. If someone poisoned me, it’s Dresdemona. She set one of her assassins on me. Just like Abercrombie.”

  “You don’t know that. Did you see anything? Did you see who it was?”

  “I wish I could remember but it’s just not clear. The last thing I saw was… Meadowlark! She was using him like a dog. She has him! We have to do something!”

  “Did that really come as a surprise?” Moonshadow asked. “He was her consort before, wasn’t he?”

  “No. No, he hates her. She’s controlling him now. I know it. He told me he would never go back to her. He’d rather die.”

  “Meadowlark has a way with his tongue. And certainly not to be trusted.”

  “But I do trust him. He wasn’t just saying those things to get me to…”

  Moonshadow’s head tilted playfully. “He seduced you?”

  “Well, yes and no. It wasn’t really like that. We joined. I trust him. Don’t snicker, Moonshadow. Please don’t. I trust him!”

  “Trust and Meadowlark—the two don’t exactly go together.”

  Theodora struggled to sit up. “She’s controlling him, I tell you. And how many others as well?”

  “Be still. You’re hurt and you’re angry. Don’t strain yourself now. You have to rest.” She turned her head and called out, “James, please bring your mother some broth.”

  Theodora lay back down. She couldn’t remember most of what had happened but one sight was clear in her mind. Meadowlark’s tortured face. What had that witch done to him? Three days. “Is he alright? Meadowlark. Have you seen him?”

  “He’s living in the West Tower now. He seems well enough.”

  A cup of broth appeared before Theodora’s face. The aroma of fresh crab soup reminded her she was starving. She took the cup from a purple hand. A purple hand?

  “Hello, Mother.”

  “James? James is that you?”

  She tried to reconcile the face with that of her son. Purple skin, dark eyebrows, elk-like antlers. But beneath those new features, yes, it was James.

  “You gave me a fright,” she said. “For a moment I thought it was Aldebaran come back again.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s happened to you?”

  “I cured them—the Changed Men. I turned them all human again. They’re happy. But I’m afraid I’m stuck like this. I’ve never been able to do a glamour. Now I can’t hide what I am.”

  “It’s alright, James,” Theodora said. “This is Everbright, the place for faeries. You don’t look so much different than any of the rest of us.”

  She took another grateful sip of the soup, then exchanged heartfelt glances with her sister and her son. “Thank you. I’m sure you saved my life.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to do without you,” Moonshadow said. “And that’s my problem. I don’t know what to do.” She frowned, unsure if she should continue.

  “Tell me,” Theodora said.

  Moonshadow sighed. “We’ve got trouble. Midsummer Eve—there was a fight at the barracks. The Wild Hunt. They killed a dozen men.”

  “Oh, Mother Moon,” said Theodora. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. Dresdemona’s people say the soldiers attacked them. I’m not sure I believe it.”

  “The Hunt is too dangerous. You have to stop it.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  Theodora slapped the bedsheets. “We shouldn’t have let them come here!”

  Moonshadow shook her head. “They have to be here. If we belong here, we have to be all together.”

  “Well, she’ll bring bloody hell down around our ears. The King isn’t going to stand for this. He’ll send his men. Probably already has. They may be on their way here right now. And what happens when they knock down our doors? You’re in charge. You have to put Dresdemona in her place.”

  “That’s the other thing…”

  “What?”

  “She’s challenged me to… well, to some sort of ritual combat.”

  “What?”

  “That’s how they decide things in the Winter Court.”

  “This isn’t the Winter Court! Are you talking about a fight? To the death?”

  “That’s what they say.”

  “That’s not the way we do things.” Theodora tried to push herself up again but the aching pan in her head forced
her to settle back down. “Arghhh!”

  Moonshadow took her hand. “You have to rest. I wasn’t going to tell you. I shouldn’t have. But I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Well you can’t fight her.”

  “I don’t want to fight her.”

  Theodora didn’t like the sound of that. “We have to stick to our principles. Let the people decide. Like we always do. A vote. You’ll win, like you always do.”

  “Dresdemona probably knows that,” James said. “So she’s insisting on the fight.” He chuckled sadly. “It’s sort of funny. We can’t even decide on how to decide.”

  “It’s not funny,” Theodora shouted, making her head hurt even worse. “We must insist on a vote.”

  “I just don’t know,” Moonshadow said. “Maybe I’m not the right one. Not any more. Things are changing so fast. There’s blood on our hands—”

  “Their hands!”

  “No. It’s all just the same. The thing is, Theodora, when it comes down to it I’ve never been sure about any of this. You’re the one I’ve always depended on. You’ve done all the hard work. You’re the one who set us free, not me.”

  “Moonshadow, don’t doubt yourself, not now. You have the love and support of the people and the moral compass that Moon Dancer put inside you.”

  “Is that enough?”

  “It’s better than murder. Better than mind control! Better than war! I tell you, she’s no good. Someone has to lead us back. Someone has to stop her.”

  “But it’s said that only the purest faeries live in Avalon.”

  “Avalon? Oh Mother Moon!”

  “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

  “So why is she on the outs, then? They kicked her out, I’ll wager.”

  “We don’t know that. It could be they sent her here. As an emissary. Let’s face it, there’s a lot we don’t know about her. A lot we’ve assumed.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re falling for her false promises now.”

  “There’s something to her, you can’t deny it. When she danced for us I felt it. You did too.”

  “That was just a trick of the stroiata-arbae. The trees forced that emotion on us.” And then Theodora thought, the same sort of trick Meadowlark used on me? “Just look at all the problems she’s caused already. She’s not bringing Avalon to us. She can’t deliver.”

  “What if she can? I’ve a way of finding out. I can’t tell you about it now. It isn’t fair. You need to rest.”

  Theodora could not argue any further. She sank back down onto the healing pallet. She was completely drained and dangerously weak. Dresdemona. Meadowlark. Too many troubles. This is no time for Moonshadow to fold on us now, she thought. She needs help I can’t provide. Damn it, where is Eccobius? And where is Threadneedle?

  Dresdemona walked into the orchard as if she owned the place.

  Threadneedle watched her approach. Spine straight, head held high, she possessed all the innate dignity of the famed Effranil. And yet there was a wicked sashay to her hips all her own. She was the most complicated, most exasperating, most intriguing woman he had ever known. Or ever would know.

  She had come alone, just as he had requested. There was still hope.

  “Good afternoon,” she said, quite casually. She looked as beautiful as ever. No smile, just a petulant curl to her lip that made his heart skip a beat.

  Threadneedle didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.

  Picking up on his discomfort immediately, Dresdemona added, “You wanted to speak to me?”

  He smiled. He suddenly knew where to start.

  “I remember when I first saw you. Tied to the whipping post, half-naked, almost dead.”

  “And you so gallantly came to my aid. Poor little defenseless me.”

  “I did save your life.”

  “You did. Are you calling in the debt now? What would you have of me?”

  “I’ve something to ask, but not quite yet.”

  “I paid you back in full. I made you a king!”

  “You did, though mostly for your own ends.”

  Dresdemona groaned. The sound began sarcastically but descended into a real cry of unbridled anguish. “You infuriate me!”

  Threadneedle raised a hand. “That is not my intention. Let me start again. The first time we made love—the very first time—I remember that most of all. I knew you in that moment, really knew you. You were strong, you were bold and you were brave. But there was something else. You were just a little unsure. And that little bit of uncertainty, that tiny vulnerability made all the difference. Just as a flaw deep inside a gem can spoil its beauty, that little flaw made your beauty. Without it, you were just a hard, though magnificently glittering, diamond. Who wants to love a diamond?”

  “I showed you everything,” she said. “I’d never given myself to anyone else that way before. And never since.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it hurt too much.”

  “Agreed. We were so happy together, we truly did complete each other. Until it all went wrong. You sent me away—”

  “To protect you.”

  “Yes, I understand that now. You sent me away to protect me, but there was another option. You could have come with me. Why didn’t you?”

  Aside from a slight narrowing of her gaze, she did not answer.

  “I’ll tell you why, Dresdemona. Because ruling the Winter Court was more important to you than having me. That was your choice.”

  She turned slowly to the side, reaching up to take a ripe pear from one of the nearby trees. “You’re right.” She took a wet, juicy bite. “I won’t deny it. I was young and ambitious. I didn’t want to run away. I don’t run away.”

  “Because you’re better than everyone else.”

  She swallowed a mouthful of sweet fruit and licked her lips. “I am.”

  “Damn it all, you haven’t changed a bit. You have to be the one in charge. You have to be the one on the high platform talking down to the crowd. Sad thing is, you are better than the rest of us. I understand ambition. I understand power. After all, I was a king once, right? I killed men to keep that high seat, men you had incapacitated, men who didn’t stand a chance. All’s fair, right? That’s how the game is played. I understand all that. But I tell you this, the day I walked away from the Winter Court was the best day of my life. My heart was broken, I can’t pretend otherwise—you know me far too well for that. But I was glad to be rid of all the rest—the intrigues, the dirty deals, the lies, the killing. Now you ask me to take it all on again. Because if I join with you here, I know what will be expected of me. More blood. There’s no way around it. And I might even go for that deal, Dresdemona, if I knew one thing. If I knew you still had that tiny speck of uncertainty deep inside—if I knew you hadn’t become a heart of stone.”

  She licked a stray fragment of pear from her lip. “Only one way to find out…”

  “This isn’t a joke.”

  She stepped closer. “I wasn’t joking.”

  “Right. So now we come to my request. I put it to you now. Come away with me! Do what we should have done before, when Aldebaran first came to the Winter Court.”

  “Thread…” She spoke his name as if addressing a misguided child, lost in the rain. “Things are different now. We can have both! We can have each other and rule Everbright as well. There’s nothing to stop us.”

  “No one here can stop you, I’ll give you that. But how long before another Nephilim comes calling? Aldebaran wasn’t the only one. And they will come. It’s just a matter of time. We’ve a second chance to be together. Away from here, away from all this, just you and I. I have resources, places we can go. So many places we can go. They’ll never find us. But I’ll not stay and rule at your side again and have history repeat itself again. Not again. Here’s your chance. Do the right thing this time. Walk away from this mad dream of power for once and all. You’re tearing this place apart! There are good people here. They’re better off without you, without u
s.”

  She shook her head. “Stay. There’s nothing to stop us here, except your foolish pride.”

  “Or yours.” He took a step forward and they were so close they were breathing the same air back and forth. He took her hands in his. “I know you. I know your song.”

  It was the first time he’d ever mentioned it. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it. Your song that just doesn’t fit, that has the ‘wrong’ notes in it. I heard it—that first time we joined. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It’s never left me. All these years, it’s never left me.”

  He gave her hands an encouraging squeeze. “Come away with me.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Just like before,” he said. “It’s exactly the same.” He reached down and took up a leather rucksack lying in the grass. He slung it over his shoulder. “Good-bye, Dresdemona.”

  Chapter 54

  “Chapel burned to the ground, hmmm?” The Cardinal reached for the tea pot. “Your Coverdale bible?”

  “Gone,” Desmos said. “Lost in the fire.”

  “Tchh! That is a regrettable thing. Still, it was only a material possession. The Word lives on always.”

  Desmos stood glancing out the window. Cardinal Hervey operated out of a large office on the third floor of the West Tower, the Church of St John the Baptist, Glastonbury. On one side, the window offered a view of daily life in town with its market square, shops and barter-stalls, scurrying merchants, tradesmen, an elegant carriage house and a small nunnery. Through the opposite window, which held a pane of tinted glass, he could see the churchyard cemetery out back, with its vast array of granite headstones and monuments to the dead. Desmos was fascinated by the contrast.

  But he had no time to contemplate the deep meaning of life as viewed from high station at this point. Lest he not appear rude, Desmos turned his attention back to the Cardinal. “I have the silver chalice, the pyx and lavabo.”

  The Cardinal nodded, mostly unconcerned, and motioned Desmos to a seat at the polished cherry wood table. “Come, sit, before the tea grows cold.” He poured a cup for the Vicar, placed two cinnamon biscuits on his plate.