Chapter
26
Tolian closed her eyes just as the
blade was about to strike her wrist. She
steeled herself for the inevitable pain, but it did not come. Instead, she felt something grab her arm and
pull it back the other way with such force that the blade fell from her
grip. She opened her eyes.
There was Dowbreth. He was not happy. He held her arm at an uncomfortable angle.
“Our Wondrous Deity of the Mystic
Energies,” he said with ill-concealed anger, “must use more caution when
handling sharp objects. You could have
hurt yourself. Do not fear, we shall
allow no such harm to come to you.”
She stared at him fuming, her lip
curled in rage. “Now I know how you have
sapped my strength, it is only a matter of time before I find the opportunity
to free myself and take my vengeance upon you.
And, I will not be merciful, I assure you, Dowbreth.”
His look of displeasure was replaced
my smugness.
“Perhaps you have forgotten, though
a world away, your lover is still under my power. You have given me your word of honor against her
safety. Have you forgotten, Radiant
One?”
“You ensnared me by treachery and
now you talk of my word of honor,” spat Tolian.
“The treachery that ‘ensnared you,’
as you say, was not mine. You were
betrayed by your own blood kin, not by me,” replied the warlord.
“How am I to know that you have not
broken your word and already killed Brythia?” the princess asked. The thought of that possibility sent a wave
of fear and anguish through her.
“Actually, I had come to assure you
that was not the case as I require additional cooperation from you, Your
Magnificence,” answered Dowbreth. “So
first, I should ease your concerns for your beloved’s well-being.”
He held aloft his magick sack in his
other arm.
“Would you like to see for yourself
that she is well?”
“Yes,” came her immediate response.
“And you’ll behave yourself as a
lady should and not attempt to cut your hand off again?” Dowbreth asked.
“Not at least until I see that
Brythia is safe and unharmed.”
He released his tight grip on her
arm.
“Fear not,” he said, “I will see to
it that nothing nasty happens to her as long as you continue to cooperate. But, I feel that we must remind you that it
is within my power to have her killed quickly should you cross me.”
Tolian rubbed her arm where the giant
faerie had held it.
“You two, out,” Lord Dowbreth
commanded to Capreesh and Delotti.
They curtsied and hastened out of
the room.
He redirected his attention to the
princess. He raised the bag so that it
was just above Tolian’s head. “Now close
your eyes.”
A sudden, sickening feeling passed
through her, like a thousand worms crawling around inside her. It passed just as quickly and she was seeing
through someone’s eyes. Dowbreth’s
fellow conspirator’s eyes. They were
focused on Brythia deeply asleep in a bed.
Her angelic face in perfect peace.
A strong wave of desire stirred in her.
She wished she were in bed with her.
Though it clearly wasn’t their bed, it looked familiar.
“Where is she?” Tolian asked
Dowbreth, keeping her eyes closed and ‘looking’ down at the sleeping druidess.
“She is in the very bed that you
slept in yesterday in the Tanslynt Inn.
Perfectly safe. Unless...”
The conspirator held a sword next to
Brythia’s head. Just for a moment, then
the fellow quickly removed it. A threat,
nothing more.
Tolian wanted to keep watching the
golden-haired druidess sleep. She felt
so close to her. It was impossible to
imagine that they were worlds apart. She
swore to herself that somehow, someway they would be reunited. She had to believe that. She would be patient. Dowbreth’s vigilance would drop at some
point.
All at once, the image of Brythia
faded to blackness. The disturbing
sensation and now nausea came and went once again. An alien, lingering, and powerful malice
receded more slowly from her consciousness.
She opened her eyes. Dowbreth was looking down at her expectantly.
“Our deal stands,” she
announced. “What do you want me to do?”
He smiled wide. His ghastly pointed teeth grinned at her.
“Excellent,” he said with triumph. “We are going to call on the King and Queen
of Faerie this afternoon. All that you
have to do is follow my lead and agree with whatever I say. That is all.”
She nodded quietly.
“Capreesh. Delotti,” bellowed the Faerie lord.
They reentered the room almost
instantly.
“Finish getting her ready,” he
instructed them. “We leave immediately.”
“Yes, Lord,” again in unison.
Tolian watched them. They feared him, too, that was clear. But, they respected him. There was something in him that had earned
respect, even admiration from the girls.
She could not imagine what it was.
He turned and left them, taking the
sword with him. Tolian breathed a long
sigh of relief. She was so intimidated
by him. She hated herself for it.
The girls were stressed and
concerned by her previous behavior, yet more fearful of her than they were of
Dowbreth. They said nothing to her, but
set about making the final additions to Tolian’s outfit. Delotti set a silver circlet crowned with a
crescent moon upon her brow, while Capreesh slipped the most peculiar slippers
Tolian had ever seen on her feet. They
were purple and silver and matched her gown perfectly. And as she moved her feet upon the floor they
shot off sparks just like the gown did.
But that wasn’t the most unusual thing about them. The heel was high and pointy, raising it
fully three inches above the toe. They
angled her leg in the most fantastic manner.
She quickly noticed that they were quite difficult to walk in. She admired herself in the mirror for a
moment. She loved looking gorgeous. It was a fantastic feeling; there was no real
equivalent in male existence. She
puckered her lips up into a pout and posed in front of the mirror. It helped to take her mind off her present
circumstances. And it seemed to put the
two faerie maids in a more relaxed state, as they also admired her beauty.
Dowbreth’s voice caught her off
guard as she examined herself. “Come,
Powerful Queen of Tides, your chariot awaits.”
His voice was booming and deep, but a mocking theatrical tone joined the
violence underneath. He gestured to the
door.
Tolian had to concentrate carefully
in order to walk in the high-heeled shoes.
They required precisely placed steps, not the confident, long strides
she was used to. Tentative, and
dainty little steps, she thought.
But, even she was aware how tremendously sexy that walk was. It made her extremely conscious of her own
sexuality. And of how difficult it was
to walk in those shoes. Now, she
teetered too far forward, or her ankle wanted to roll over this way too
far. She followed Dowbreth back through
the great house, doing everything she could to keep up with his giant steps,
and not break her neck doing so. The
warlord was muttering to himself. Tolian
could only just make out some of his words.
“You are certain that this is the
best plan?” He said to no one in particular.
She could hear doubt in his voice
for the first time. She strained to hear
more of his words, but he was too far ahead of her, and she could not make the
out. She was so preoccupied by these
tasks, that she paid little attention to the household, or its
furnishings. All that changed, however,
when they stepped outside into the bright sunshine.
It was dazzlingly brilliant
outside. Golden rays of sunshine spilled
down like rain. Energy poured out of the
sun and visibly moved through the air like droplets, touching each blade of
grass, tree, and faerie with a hint of its own luminance. Everything glowed with life and energy,
bathed in the shimmering grandeur of the sun’s light. Yet Tolian’s eyes did not squint nor
burn. They took it all in as though it
was quite natural. Objects still
possessed their own distinct colors, but more vividly than in the mortal
world. The trees lining the cobblestone
walkway to Dowbreth’s door appeared to be some faerie version of magnolia
trees, their pink and red petals in full bloom.
Their fragrance tantalized Tolian with a sweet, potent delight. The sky was clearer and bluer than any sky
she had ever seen before. The birdsongs
rang out with symphonic complexity.
Dowbreth strode next to a mammoth
chariot, carved from wood with an interlocking pattern of crescent moons
outlined in painted silver. Four spears
arranged in the proximate inside corners were decked with purple banners
emblazoned with silver crescent moons.
Thirteen faerie horses were harnessed to the mighty chariot. The faerie warlord gestured towards the
chariot and held his hand out for her.
With great disdain, Tolian took the giant’s hand and stepped up into the
chariot. Her shoes caused her some
difficulty; she almost toppled right back out as soon as she had climbed
in. She squeezed Dowbreth’s hand firmly
and caught her balance. She quickly
pulled her hand away. With a light easy
step, Dowbreth was next to her. He
looked down at her and smiled. Tolian
turned away from his stare. It was
filled with lust, and a degree of nearly clinical satisfaction as he examined
her. She did not like it. He lifted the reins and with a flick of his
wrists, brought the horses to a slow walk.
The chariot moved forward.
Tolian looked back to stare at the
big manor house behind. It was clearly
an ancient structure. A thick layer of
green ivy, which had encompassed the entire structure, save the windows and the
doors, covered the stones of its construction.
It stood four stories tall, and spanned all of a hundred yards in
length. But far more interesting, at
that moment, was the sight of the long line of people emerging from the house,
each carrying a purple moon banner on a pole, and all of them marching two
abreast behind the chariot.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“As I said, we are visiting the King
and Queen of Faerie,” answered the warlord.
“The Goddess of the Moon making such a visit is an event of considerable
magnitude, my Lady. Of singular
importance.”
“Is that everybody from your
household?” Tolian queried.
“As a matter of a fact it is. They have nothing more important to do than
attend you, I assure you.”
She gasped in wonder as a dozen
winged faeries leapt into the air in formation.
She had, of course, seen the faeries launch an aerial assault on dragons
before, but that she had witnessed from far below. This was taking place just a few feet behind
her. Their wings, presumably designed to
fit the motif of the day, were purple and silver, and were constructed of the
finest Elven gossamer and some sort of framework of wooden sticks to make their
shape. They were strapped onto the
faeries, who despite the seemingly dysfunctional manufacture of their wings,
flew like kites in the wind. They
appeared like massive butterfly wings, with tendrils of gossamer, streaming
resplendent in the golden light.
Now many behind them handed their
pennants to their neighbor and retrieved musical instruments from their packs
as they walked. Some pulled forth
flutes, some, stringed instruments of a design Tolian had never seen before,
still others righted drums hanging from their belts. A large, bald faerie shouted off a count of
four and a tune was struck up. Tolian
was enraptured by the impossibly lush and powerful melody of their music. Upon the thick texture of the musical melody,
all assembled sang out a joyous anthem.
Though she did not understand the words, Tolian sensed that their song
was about her, or more accurately about the Moon Goddess.
“You like the song?” Dowbreth asked, seemingly, for once without
malice, violence, or lurking motive.
“It’s the most wonderfully beautiful
piece of music I have ever heard,” she answered honestly, her own voice without
the bitterness with which she usually addressed the faerie. She was too caught up in the fantastic
assault on her senses. The smells so
deliriously acute. The sights and sounds
beyond all equal in the mortal world.
As they passed through the gate in
the wall surrounding Dowbreth’s estate, Tolian was able to get her first real
look at the countryside of Faerie.
Rolling green hills abounded, some with castles situated upon their
crests, some with manor houses, and some with cottages set upon them Copses of trees and brush were interspersed
here and there. A great range of
majestic snow capped mountains dominated the western vista, but it was what lay
to the east that completely captured Tolian’s attention. Perhaps three miles away stood the largest,
most amazingly fantastic structure Tolian had ever seen. A palace of unearthly grandeur. Its innumerable spires reached dizzying
heights, yet were dwarfed by the main tower which was absolutely the highest by
far she had ever seen. It glistened in
the sun as though it were encrusted with diamonds.
Her mouth hung open in
disbelief. Dowbreth took notice of her
incredulity.
“Yes, the palace of Jurthys and
Ymrisiva, King and Queen of Faerie is without equal,” he commented.
“Yes, it is,” agreed the princess.
Now that they were on the open road,
more and more of the Fay soon joined them.
Some wearing wings of countless colors and designs, followed in the air,
while most fell in behind the members of Dowbreth’s household, and took up the
song of the Moon Goddess. In a short
time, a legion of all shapes and sizes of faeries fell in with them (behind the
chariot). Most were of the sort of faerie
Tolian had come to know, while others ranged from tiny pixies to giants bigger
than Dowbreth. There were creatures that
looked like pumpkins with faces, arms, and legs. There were centaurs, and faeries dressed as
flowers and human-sized flowers that walked alongside them. Tolian was getting dizzy trying to process
all that her senses were presenting her.
Something whizzed by her head. She twisted to look at it, but it was no
longer there. As she turned back to look
ahead, she saw it. It was a cat. Perhaps it was a little smaller than the
average terrestrial feline, but that was
not what was unusual about it. It had
wings. Not the artificial variety like
the humanoid faeries wore, but actual feathered wings, tan in color and
matching its tan and gray tabby markings.
The flying cat hovered just a few
feet in front of Tolian’s face, keeping perfect pace with the moving
chariot. “Meow,” it said.
Tolian’s gaping smile of amazement,
brightened to express even greater delight.
“Hello there,” she said with cheerful enthusiasm despite herself.
The flying cat lowered its head in
humble subjugation, then did an aerial flip and brushed its face gently against
Tolian’s cheek. She reached out and
petted the creature.
“He is so cute,” she observed.
“They fly wild here in Faerie,”
explained Dowbreth. “Keep him as a pet,
if he will stay with you.”
“Really?” she gushed. She sounded like a little girl, and she knew
it. She became conscious of the casual
manner in which she was conversing with her captor. Why was he being so nice to her? Almost gentlemanly. It seemed to beyond what was required, even
if he was trying to get her to do something for him. She sensed some conflict in him. Perhaps there had been goodness in him at one
time, and he was closest to it at his own home.
Why were they going to see Ymrisiva
and her husband was beyond her comprehension
as well. Surely, they would simply
command Dowbreth to release her. She
knew Ymrisiva. She had met her in her
dreams first, and she had proven herself a staunch ally against the Demon’s
menace. What could Dowbreth hope to
gain? Perhaps the faerie warlord only
needed her to make some point or to gain some boon or favor from his King and
Queen. Maybe, she would be able to leave
once he had obtained whatever it was he wanted.
That did not seem likely, but it did afford her a small measure of
hope. In any case, she was sure to
discover whatever it was that he was planning in a short while.
In the meantime, she contented
herself with watching the unfolding spectacle around her, listening to the
delightful music in her honor, and petting her new cat, who seemed as pleased
with her company as she was with his.
“Do you name cats in Faerie?” she
asked Dowbreth.
“Some do. This one has been hanging around my property
lately. I believe the servants call him
Pilt or Wild One, in your tongue.”
Tolian found it difficult to believe
that this daunting warlord of the Sidhe would ever bother to know something
like that.
“Pilt,” she repeated. “I like that.
Pilt.”
Pilt meowed his agreement and
nuzzled Tolian’s neck.
A vast throng moved behind the
chariot as it passed through the gates of the palace. The guards moved aside and bowed deeply to
Tolian as they did so. It seemed as
though they had been expected, for a pavilion had been erected in the field
between the gate and the palace proper, which towered impossibly, so it seemed,
high above. The King and Queen sat in
thrones within the pavilion. They stood
up and bowed low as Dowbreth brought the chariot to a stop just before
them. The faerie warlord leapt down off
the chariot and assisted Tolian off.
Dowbreth whispered to her, “Give
them leave to rise.”
“Rise, Noble Monarchs of the Faerie
Realm,” said Tolian.
They got back to their feet. How regal they looked. How beautiful. Ymrisiva had long silver hair down to the
base of her back. She was not so pale as
she had appeared in the mortal world. In
fact, Tolian realized, none of the faeries had that same unearthly pallor in
Faerie. Even Dowbreth had some color to
his cheeks in the crisp, golden sunlight.
The Queen’s features were fine and delicate. Jurthys resembled her so nearly, a masculine
version of her, that they could have been brother and sister. The King wore a long, gleaming white robe and
the Queen’s gown constantly shifted colors as Tolian looked at it.
Ymrisiva’s eyes fastened onto
Tolian’s. The depth and wisdom there was
unfathomable. And power. But kindness and
curiosity shining also. Tolian smiled
uneasily at her.
Ymrisiva addressed her. “Hail unto thee, Holy Goddess of the Moon,
who reigns sovereign over Faerie, Mighty Empress of Clouds, we your loyal
subjects welcome you. We were quite
surprised when your messengers advised us of your arrival. Is it wise for you to come so to Faerie? Your influence will quickly begin to make its
effect evident in the Astral Plane of which this realm is a part. It must be a vital and urgent mission.”
Tolian glanced furtively at Dowbreth. His sneer returned as he stepped forward.
“My Queen,” the warlord spoke, “The
Goddess wishes that I speak for her as this situation is somewhat awkward for
her.”
Tolian had to agree with him on that
point.
“Is this so, Holy One?” questioned
the Queen.
She nodded, “Yes, Dowbreth speaks
for me.”
She wished she knew what he was up
to.
“Very well,” the Queen accepted.
Dowbreth cleared his throat roughly
and began. “Our Empress is, of course,
aware that her power and divine essence will begin to dominate her surroundings
in this mutable kingdom, but, as you say, her mission is an urgent one. She will, naturally, attempt to have as
little effect on the fabric of our world as possible.”
The Queen’s eyes narrowed as
Dowbreth spoke. It was obvious to Tolian
that she did not trust him. The King’s
brow carried great concern, but he remained silent. Tolian found herself fidgeting
uncontrollably, causing a great commotion of sparkling energy to fly from her
dress and shoes.
“The Goddess,” continued Dowbreth,
“has decided to remain here in Faerie.
She will take all precautions to prevent contamination of others. As Empress of Faerie, she will no longer
require Your Majesties services. She
will be occupying your palace as it is the only suitable residence for
her. You are welcomed to use my estate,
if you like, until you can find other accommodations.”
To her credit, Ymrisiva did not
flinch. “Where will you be staying, Lord
Dowbreth?” she asked.
“I will be staying in the palace
with her Holiness. After the prescribed
engagement period of seven years, we shall be wed.”
Tolian’s head started to spin. Dowbreth subtly placed his hand on the magick
bag, hanging off his belt, surrounded by the severed heads of his enemies. Tolian understood his silent message.
“This is true, Tolian?” asked the
Queen without formality.
Tolian swallowed hard. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
Copyright 2004, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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