Chapter
42
Tolian ran now, yet all the while
making sure to maintain Kreel’s stable transport via her newfound
telekinesis. The garden was huge, with
acres upon acres of corrupted vegetation reaching out for her, trying
desperately to capture her in its slimy tendrils and vines. She moved between terror and
rationality. Of course, she was afraid
of Dowbreth, and she did not wish to test her power against him if she did not
have to. Escape still seemed like the
best plan. She stopped for just an
instant to listen for him. Nothing. She stayed frozen. No sounds.
He could be anywhere. She peered
around the moonlit garden. Only the
rustle of plants swaying in the breeze, searching for her. It felt like everything in the garden was
trying to find her. As if everything
were an extension of the Demon.
Everything moved with his will.
Wait—there was the sound of a footfall twenty or thirty yards to her
right. She mentally set Kreel down on
the ground for a moment and made secure her grip on her sword. She leaned forward to looked past the hedge
hiding her view. She waited, holding her
breath.
Then she felt his hand take hold of
her from behind and in one motion dislodge her grip on her sword and send her
crashing across the pavement stones in the opposite direction. She caught just a glimpse of his fiery red
eyes in the moonlight. Damn, she
thought, feeling her wrist break on impact as she tried to slow her
tumble. She hadn’t even heard him sneak
up on her.
She turned to face Dowbreth who
loomed over her with great menace. She
held his gaze.
“I am not afraid of you,” she
declared defiantly.
She stretched out her hand, palm
outward in his direction, and shot a bolt of energy right at him. He fell roughly backwards into a stone
wall. Tolian could clearly hear the
sound of the impact.
Nevertheless, Dowbreth quickly
gained his feet.
“You forget,” hissed the faerie
warlord, “that I have magick of my own.”
He reached down, pulled the Demon’s head out of the sack on his belt,
and held it up high. It cackled insanely
as he did so.
“You think you truly control the
substance of Faerie?” the Demon’s head squealed in maniacal fury. “I am the Power of Faerie. It is mine.”
And a shadow passed over the Moon
and its light was instantly diminished.
Tolian felt the mystical energies of the silver sphere that had charged
her being ebb all at once. And she knew
that her powers were gone. It was just
her against her enemies. She looked over
hastily at Kreel’s sword lying a dozen feet away, barely visible in the
darkness.
“Oh, you wish to battle Dowbreth and
destroy me,” croaked the foul, rotting head.
“You are a puny woman, how could you hope to overthrow my power? Take the sword, if it will make you feel
better. Dowbreth, set me down over there
and battle her. Take your time, cut off
her breasts one by one as you do so.”
“As you command, my Lord,” replied
Dowbreth.
There was no fear in her now, only
rage. Rage against the evil that she had
allowed to go on for too long. She would
end it now, somehow. Without the Moon’s
light, it was difficult to see far in the deepening shadows. She walked the few steps to fetch Kreel’s
weapon from the pavement. As she reached
down to pick it up, she was distracted.
A cloaked figure stepped forward from the darkness; she held something
in her hands.
“Try this sword, my Lady,” said the voice,
in a soft whisper.
Tolian’s heart leapt. It was Brythia. Tolian just captured a glimpse of her smile
under the hood of the cloak. The flash
of recognition left her stunned. How was
it possible?
“Later,” Brythia said in a hushed
tone, reading her mind.
The druidess grabbed her wife’s arm
and whispered, “If the Dark Moon Metal is the lock, then the Moonsword is the
key.”
The nature-priestess touched the
lunar blade to the bracelet and it popped open and fell from Tolian’s
wrist. Tolian’s head was spinning. She took the Moonsword from Brythia’s hand,
kissed her quickly on the cheek, and turned to face Dowbreth. The faerie was straining to peer into the
darkness. He was aware something strange
and unexpected had happened, but he obviously had no idea what exactly it was.
As soon the bracelet ceased contact
with her skin, Tolian felt all of her power return—not just the telekinesis,
but the strength, too. She felt as
though she was filled with the purple flame of the Moon. Energy surged from deep within her and she
felt as if her soul was on fire.
“Dowbreth,” she said, “are you ready
to die?”
He snickered. “Woman, will you never learn your place?”
“You know what? I really want to see you die more clearly
than this.” She waved her left arm in
the air (her wrist was no longer broken) and the Moon shone forth brightly
again. The silver light cascaded upon
her. She felt herself glowing with a
white brilliance. Pure energy flooded
every fiber of her being, moving through her with healing and strength. She leveled her gaze at the giant.
He was afraid. It was that simple. The snicker faded into a fearful frown. His icy pale skin paled even further. Already she felt revenged. In that moment, she taught the giant fear,
though he would have little time to indulge that new sensation. He was shaking.
“You have earned the wrath of the
Moon Goddess,” she said with much drama.
“You will die now.”
Her movements were too swift for any
eye, faerie, mortal, or demonic to perceive.
She operated outside, even her own awareness, yet some part of her knew
exactly what she was doing. As always,
there was a flash of whiteness, of the silver light, and it was done. Dowbreth’s corpse lay dead and bloodied at
her feet.
Brythia walked slowly up to her and
threw herself into Tolian’s arms. She
buried her head in her bosom. Tolian
wrapped her arms around her. It was
almost impossible to believe. She felt
complete once again. She wanted to hold
her beloved in that embrace for all time.
Unfortunately, there was still other business at hand. Letting go of Brythia was the last thing she
wanted to do at that moment. Tolian did
not even know if she would be able to disengage. She smothered the druidess in kisses, and
gently broke away from her.
“I’ll be right back,” she explained,
then turned her attention to the Demon’s head.
She made her way around the giant’s sizable cadaver and stared down at
the sinister remains of Hertrid’s head.
The Demon’s head. It was
chuckling softy. Tolian kicked it over
on its side.
“What do you laugh about,
fiend? It is over, you have lost,” the
goddess pointed out to the Demon.
“Oh no, my adversary, it is far from
over. Yes, of course, you will destroy
this vessel. It is of no consequence; it
has served its purpose. In a few
moments, this garden will be flooded with all the evil I have wrought
here. I have called it all here to
destroy you. Then, my plans for your
world will be unchallenged. You do not
yet know how to control your powers enough to survive this. Farewell, Moon Go...”
With a few sword strokes, Tolian rendered the thing an
unrecognizable mass of blood.
Then she had Brythia in her arms,
and their lips pressed together. Their
hearts abounded in the joy of love. They
clutched each other tighter and tighter, tears of happiness streaming down
their checks. They were finally
together, against all hope, against all adversity. Holding Brythia erased all the hurt, all the
loneliness. They didn’t need to say
anything; words did not matter. They
understood each other perfectly. Their
deepest wishes had come true. Finally
together. Both of them would have given
anything to share this moment. But it
was only a moment.
“I love you,” Tolian finally
declared
“I love you, too.”
Presently, they heard the
sounds. Shouts and screams and cries of
foul things. Growing louder. Getting nearer. The Demon had unleashed the
twisted hell he had fashioned to annihilate them. And it would be there any moment. She would probably be able to fight them off
for quite a while, but even she could not hope to survive against all of Faerie
gone mad.
It was ironic,
Tolian thought, her Moonsword humming with glee in her hand. Here was Brythia finally in her arms, her
powers were restored, she once again possessed her trusty Moonsword, and they
were going to be killed any minute.
“Not much time together,” mused
Brythia, again reading her mind.
“Well, at least we’ll die together,”
observed Tolian.
“Sounds like they’ll be here any
minute,” Brythia noted.
“Wait,” said Tolian, “what’s that?”
“I don’t know,” laughed Brythia, in
spite of their situation. “I can’t see
anything.”
“Oh yes,” recalled Tolian, “I
remember that; I had that problem here at first, too. Well, it’s like the air around us is
boiling. It’s not hot or anything, but
that’s what it looks like.”
That’s exactly what it looked like
to Tolian. Like the air was churning in
a raging boil. Then, suddenly, it became
still again, but now an army of Pine Devils appeared, and, unless she was
mistaken, Findelbres, wearing his wings, was leading them.
Tolian kissed Brythia once again.
Chapter
43
They had all settled in well to life
on the Moon, Brythia thought. The tower,
their tower, had become so much more vivid and lively a place since she had
visited it in her dream. It wasn’t an
insubstantial, vague backdrop any more.
It was real and solid. It felt
like home now, though they couldn’t have been there more than two weeks. The girls from Tolian’s staff in Faerie were
all fitting in nicely, and seemed to have quite the hang of the place. Tolian had refused to leave the ruined realm
without them, and Findelbres and the Pine Devils had to rescue them as
well. Brythia did not allow herself to
dwell on the chaotic madness that had all but consumed that enchanted
land. Still, the faeries in their
company held out hope that one day it could be restored to its former
state. Brythia sighed.
She looked out their window. The winged cat, Pilt, who darted past,
playfully chasing a Will-o-the-Wisp, startled her. In the courtyard below rainbow-colored
flowers surrounded gorgeous marble fountains.
A small contingent of Pine Devils meandered there, and over by the pond,
Kreel and Findelbres were walking.
Brythia smiled to herself as she noticed that they were holding
hands. She looked up in the sky. The Sun was low, but high above, the Earth
glowed blue. She turned back to Tolian,
who lay naked in their bed.
“I really like it here,” the Moon
Goddess’ wife said.
“Me, too,” agreed the goddess, “but
I’m going to have to go back there sooner or later.”
“Well, not today,” laughed Brythia
and she jumped back in bed and wrapped her arms around Tolian
.
Chapter
44
The Solar Pilgrims gave Kiliordes
Krin-Gul’s old tent. He had protested,
but it was to no avail. Krin-Gul had
wanted Kiliordes to take over the mantle of chief Solar Pilgrim, and that was
exactly what the rest of the pilgrims demanded.
They would accept none of Kiliordes’ protestations of unworthiness. They had placed all his things in the tent
and that was that. He had only gotten
there a few hours ago. His journey went
smoothly from Lorm, through the foothills of the Haunted Mountains in the
kingdom of Surtiz. Though it was only
the journey of a few weeks on horseback, it seemed warmer in southern
Surtiz. Hints of spring in the breeze
whispered soft promises to the winter-weary traveler. Joy seemed to increase with every minute he
spent among the jolly pilgrims. He had
missed this life, though he had never truly been able to enjoy it when was he
was here before. Well, not here, of
course, the pilgrimage always traveled, moving their brightly colored tents and
carrying their constantly roaming party from the estate of one benefactor to
another. Always they spread the joy of
the Sun. He felt it immediately. They sang almost constantly hymns and carols
to the Daystar. It was infectious.
He found himself humming a catchy
little carol under his breath as he put his things away. Wait, this stuff belonged to Pagyrus. They’ve got our stuff all mixed together,
he thought.
“Huh,” he said out loud. “I wonder what’s in this bag.” He carefully opened the sack, and rolled the
contents on to the table.
It was a head. It was Perelisk’s head. The eyes opened, and their black orbs fixed
upon him.
“Hello, Kiliordes, remember me?” it
hissed.
Concluded in THE SILVER LIGHT
Copyright 2004, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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