Chapter 27
Delorick was immediately tended
to. He was placed in the hands of
Justeel, the estate’s Steward and a practiced physician, who led him to a
comfortable bed. Tolian stood by him,
her brow knit in worry.
“Do you think he’ll be all right,
Justeel?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
The Steward looked up at her, “Yes, I
think he will. Thanks, I suppose, to you.”
Tolian looked away in modesty.
“It’s quite extraordinary the way you
carried him in here. Sometimes, crisis
can produce great strength, in even a girl such as yourself. By the way, how did you know my name?”
Just then, someone whistled from
behind, “Well, hello there, my lady.”
Tolian turned to see her cousin,
Kelvris, gazing upon her with lust-filled eyes.
His presence struck her like a blow to the face.
“I must say that you truly are a
treasure of femininity, despite your wild attire. But wait, surely I know you from
somewhere...”
Tolian held her breath. She began to sweat, her stomach got
queasy. She watched as Kelvris peered
familiarly at her face.
“I definitely know you. You’re from the palace, right?”
“Yes,” she said.
That did not seem to appease Kelvris’
exploring gaze. He was still searching
his memory for her identity by an intent examination of her features. They had played together much as children,
Kelvris had known her as long as anyone had.
Tolian began to tremble. Finally,
a dawning recognition glowed in his eye.
Tolian froze. Her cousin’s
countenance quickly demonstrated wonderment and then shock.
“Tolian?” Kelvris asked
incredulously. He looked her over from
head to toe again, but this time with wide eyes.
“It is I,” she said grimly.
“But how? What has happened? You’re a woman.”
“I realize that, Kelvris,” she
replied coldly.
“By the warrior gods!” Her royal cousin exclaimed, continuing his
shock induced blabber.
Tolian turned to him. She swallowed hard as he in turn stared in
surprised dismay at her current appearance.
“Please tend to Delorick, I will
explain everything later.”
She turned back to Kelvris, “Is your
father here?”
He nodded dumbly.
“Take me to him,” she commanded.
Kelvris obeyed, though in dazed
manner. Tolian was not looking forward
to seeing her uncle on this occasion. If
Kelvris’ stunned reaction was any indication, he most likely would not take the
news well. But Tolian felt that since
Keliof was now going to find out sooner or later, she would be a man about it
and tell him herself. As they walked
through the spacious corridors of the house, Tolian’s curiosity ended their
embaressed silence.
“Has my father been worried about
me?”
That question brought Kelvris to a
standstill, his ability to speak finally emerging. “Of course you idiot! We all were.
Armies were called to the forest near Ursuk to search for you. There was a sizable reward offered to anyone
who had information regarding your whereabouts.
You’re going to explain this, aren’t you?”
He stopped before a door, “Here we
are.”
Tolian breathed deeply and entered
the room. Her uncle, who had gained a
few pounds on his already large frame was seated at his desk. He looked up from the parchments that covered
it.
“What can I do for you, young lady?”
he asked in a congenial tone.
Tolian walked forward, holding her
head high as she neared his desk.
Kelvris followed at what he considered a safe distance.
“Father, do you realize who this is?”
asked Kelvris.
“No boy, I’ve never seen her in my
life. And I assure you, I’d remember it.”
Tolian stopped before him, “Uncle
Keliof, it is I, Tolian.”
The old man laughed but a moment then
he must have seen something in Tolian’s eyes that conveyed the truth to
him. Tolian felt shamed by his reaction.
“Tolian? Lad, W-w-what magic is this?” he asked in a
stammer.
She lowered her head mournfully,
“Druidic magick, my uncle.”
She then told them the story of her
capture and transformation, and then of her quest. Her two kinsmen held their tongues as Tolian
related the tale from start to finish.
“I must ask you both, to say nothing
to my father about this,” she said, at last.
“I would prefer him to think me dead, than as being reduced to such a
shamefully wrenched condition.”
Keliof agreed, “I do think that is
perhaps the best idea for now. How long
shall you stay here?”
“Not long,” she answered. “The Demon has already made an assault on our
mission. I must obtain the Moonsword as
quickly as possible. Oh yes, that
reminds me, I am expecting guests, the other members of our expedition, one of
whom bears my unborn son in her womb.”
This announcement drew a burst of
happiness from her uncle, at least. “A
son! Well done, lad! I mean...”
“I know what you mean, uncle. I know too well. This female flesh mocks my very being.”
“I must say, Tolian, old boy, you
really look great,” commented Kelvris.
Tolian replied coldly, “If you ever
say anything like that again, cousin, I shall kill you. Do you understand?”
He laughed nervously.
“One other thing, uncle.”
“Yes, Tolian?”
“You must warn my father to prepare
our defenses. The Demon will strike Lorm
sooner or later. You must be ready to
try and stop him.”
“Of course, he’ll have his hands full
if he tries to get into Lorm.”
Tolian managed to smile. “Excellent,
but please do not underestimate him.
Now, I fear that I need to rest.
I have not slept since sometime yesterday.”
Kilfrie’s sleek black body rubbed
across Tolian’s leg. She looked down at
the cat. “Oh, sorry. Could you arrange for some food for us first?”
“Us?” asked Kelvris.
“My friend and I.”
Keliof ordered his son to escort
Tolian to the room were she had always stayed when she had visited as a
boy. Several delicious meats were
brought up, along with a good wine. When
she had eaten and seen to Kilfrie’s comfort, she settled herself into bed to take
a nap. It felt particular sliding her
new soft curves beneath those familiar sheets.
Various childhood images impinged themselves on her mind as she drifted
off to sleep.
Dreaming: She found herself walking (in her current
female form) through a sea of white mists.
She had no idea where she might be or how she had gotten there. Around
her the thick clouds of mist rolled and drifted. Nothing else could be seen. She kept walking, in what she hoped was a
straight line, but with the lack of visibility she could not be certain. A thought came to her: perhaps she was searching for the
Moonsword. The familiar vision of the
sword flashed across her dreaming mind.
Its phantom appearance calmed her, but she remained in relative
uncertainty. That might not be it, she
thought. What am I doing in this place,
she asked herself. Her mental processes
seemed as foggy and insubstantial as the deep mist.
She walked for what seemed like
hours. At last the mist seemed to be
thinning. Above her she could make out
the starry night sky, and in the distance on the horizon a massive tower
loomed. It shone with white brilliance
and was constructed in an architectural style totally unfamiliar to her. As she neared the tall structure she could
just discern the crescent shaped windows that lined its glistening sides. Now the mist around her feet seemed to ebb
and she could see her boots plodding over freshly fallen snow. It seemed to her that the best plan was to
head for the tower and to make inquiries of her whereabouts of any inhabitants
inside.
The tower loomed impossibly high
above her. It radiated a white
brilliance, making it quite difficult to behold. She knocked upon the door and it opened
inward at once. No one could be
discerned inside. She entered. The entrance way was furnished lavishly with
light blue and purple tapestries and drapes.
A great many candles lit the interior.
She looked casually about for any sign of the tower’s occupants but
could find no one. It seemed a good idea
to head up the stairs to investigate further.
Something about the place struck her
as familiar, yet she could not place it.
She climbed the stairs until she came upon a door, shaped in a
crescent. She knocked upon that door,
but she heard no reply from within. She
turned the knob cautiously and entered the room. Inside white light gleamed and reflected on
countless fountains and pools. The room
was vast and spectacular. It was the
grandest throne room she had ever seen.
For, she knew immediately that that was the function of this room. No mortal sovereign could boast such
magnificence, she realized. Crystals
gleamed from a thousand chandeliers, a rich purple silken carpet led up to the
throne, which was fashioned ornately from pure silver. She approached the splendid throne. No one sat upon it.
Something caught her eye as she
neared the mighty seat: a large window.
She thought to avail herself of its vast panoramic view, perhaps thereby
giving herself some inkling of her whereabouts.
She regretted that decision instantly.
For there hanging in the sky was a mammoth blue sphere that was without
precedent in her experience. A sinking
feeling came over her. She knew not how,
but she was immediately aware of what it was.
It was the world, hanging across the cold reaches of space. The disorientation faded surprising quickly
as she marvelled at the Earth’s unequalled beauty. A giant, delicate gem stone set in the starry
infinities of time.
A clear white horizon stretched out
as far as the eye could see below the orb of the world. A pristine, snow-covered land, with only a few
traces left of the mist which had shrouded the landscape when she had
arrived. She knew now where she was. She was on the Moon.
She was surprised by a knock on the
outside of the throne room door. At
first she was alarmed. Her pulse
quickened. She was unsure of what to
do. Another knock. Then a new confidence entered her.
“Come in,” she said.
The door opened and in walked
Ymrisiva, Queen of Faerie. Her smile
beamed as she beheld Tolian. She bowed.
“My Empress,” said Ymrisiva.
This time it didn’t bother Tolian to
be addressed in such a manner. She
didn’t know why. Barely realizing she was
doing so Tolian walked over and sat on the silver throne. It felt right. She was comfortable.
“What can I do for you, Oh Queen of
the Good Folk?” she heard herself ask.
The faerie approached the throne and
bowed again.
“I knew you would be here, so I
thought I might pay you homage in your own realm.”
Yes.
Tolian knew she was correct. It
felt like home to her. On that throne
she had lost any of the unpleasant feelings that had been assailing her
regarding her transformation. Being a
woman felt right to Tolian while sitting there.
On her throne, in her realm.
“You are welcome here always,
Ymrisiva,” she said.
The Queen seemed well pleased at
Tolian’s attitude.
“As I predicted, Oh Holy One, my
armor does your figure a great justice.”
Tolian looked down at herself, now
with pride on her female appearance. “I
must agree,” she replied. “It also
provides excellent support. I am pleased
with it. I thank you again.”
“You are welcome, My Lady of the
Silver Light. You realize, of course,
that you probably won’t feel that way when you return to the World.”
“Yes, my male pride refuses to accept
my destiny still, as well as the advantages of my femininity, but in time who
can say how things will be. In any case,
I will not allow myself to go without this armor when I return, at least until
after I confront the Demon.”
“The werewolf skin, adds a nice
touch, I must say,” observed the queen.
“It is a symbol of my ability to
defeat our enemy, I shall wear it at our encounter. But this is not why I summoned you here,”
continued Tolian.
“You summoned me here, my lady?”
asked Ymrisiva, with some small measure of surprise and slightly more
indignation.
“Indeed,” answered Tolian. She vibrated with life, with power. “The Demon has struck his first blow. He has utterly destroyed Coertol City, and
has launched an attack on our expedition.
The druid Kalabred is dead. We
have received no word from the Druidic High Council, and have therefore been
afraid to announce our whereabouts to the Demon. I need you to alert them for me.”
Ymrisiva bowed, “I shall relay
whatever messages that you wish, of course.
But clearly, if the Demon launched an attack on you he already knows
where you are?”
Tolian answered with an inner
certainty, “He utilized the Samhain-tide to locate us. He is not so powerful as of yet to find us
now that the night is passed, though he will be soon.”
Once again the Queen of Faerie stood
in wonderment. She was clearly impressed
by Tolian’s demeanor and knowledge.
“I see,” she said.
“You must tell Magara that the Demon
shall strike again soon, probably against Keythion. The kingdoms in the vicinity should be
warned so that some sort of preparations of defence can be made. Perhaps the Demon can be delayed
sufficiently, thereby, for me to obtain the sword and end this.”
“I shall tell her.”
“Also,” Tolian continued, “I need you
to raise an army of the Fey, to be equipped to send at my word.”
The queen grew solemn, “But, my Lady,
I have not the power to bring the whole host of the Sidhe into the World.”
“No,” Tolian said. “But I do.”
Suddenly soft lips pressed against
hers, bringing her from her dream.
Someone was kissing her. It was
nice, she thought as she slipped back into her normal consciousness. She opened her eyes. Brythia was leaning over her, smiling.
“Hello, My Prince,” she said.
“Hello, yourself,” Tolian mumbled
sleepily. She leaned up.
“What a weird dream,” she mused.
“Oh?”
“It’s not important now,” Tolian
said, brushing the hair away from her face in a casual manner. Brythia giggled.
“You are starting to pick up female
mannerisms.”
That observation did not please
Tolian.
“I’m sorry,” Brythia apologizes,
seeing the effect of her comment.
Tolian sighed, “Don’t worry about
it. You didn’t have any trouble finding
the estate did you?”
“No, not at all. And, before you ask, Myrthis is doing
well. And, I looked in on Delorick
before coming to get you. He’s improving as well. They’re taking good care of him.”
Tolian slid out of bed and stood up.
“You wore the armor to bed?” asked
Brythia, surprised.
Tolian mumbled in embarrassment,
“It’s, uh, comfortable you know. I was
really tired.”
She stopped herself from babbling excuses, pulled the werewolf skin around
herself (which elicited a raised eyebrow from Brythia), and turned to face the
druidess.
“Oh yes,” remembered Brythia, “Your
uncle says that dinner is ready at the main dining area.”
“Well let’s go,” said Tolian, “there
is no better food than Lormian country cooking.
My uncle has a true love of food and employs only the finest chefs, but
I can not go to the main dinning room.
My uncle and cousin have vowed to keep silent about me, but I can’t let
any other Lormian nobles find out. My
father would find out for sure.”
“Relax,” Brythia reassured him, “It
will only be your uncle, cousin Kelvris, the steward, Findelbres, Myrthis, you
and I.”
“And Kilfrie,” Tolian added.
“No, Kilfrie’s dead, remember?”
Tolian looked around the room, and
saw no sign of the big cat. Brythia eyed
her as though she were crazy.
“Now where’s she got to?”
Just then there came a woman’s
scream.
Tolian smiled, “Come on.”
They stepped out of the room into a
hallway. Two figures stood nearby in the
hallway. The black panther was sitting on
the floor, watching a chambermaid who was walking calmly towards them.
“Hello, you two,” said the
chambermaid with a great deal of familiarity.
“Kilfrie?” asked Brythia.
“Who else?” responded the chambermaid,
“I just borrowed the maid’s body for a moment.”
“How is this possible?” asked
Brythia.
The chambermaid shrugged her
shoulders, “I assume when the werewolves killed my real body while my
consciousness was in the panther’s form, I was stuck there. The panther doesn’t seem to mind. She considers it an honor.”
Tolian and Brythia took this in with
the complete acceptance that comes from the hard evidence of reality.
“His return into the world?” asked
Tolian.
Kilfrie explained, “We druids believe
in the transmigration of souls. Reincarnation, if you will. When a mighty druid of Kalabred’s nature dies
he is sure to return to a new life as soon as possible, provided that they have
no tasks for him in the Otherworld.”
“Well, just to teach him a lesson,”
Tolian said, “I hope he comes back as a woman.”
“Ah, that’s our poor Champion, for
you,” mused Kilfrie. “Well I better let
the chambermaid go, before she gets too upset.
Besides, I’m hungry again. Let’s go
eat.”
As soon as those words left the
chambermaid’s lips, a puzzled expression stole over her features. A great deal of confusion and disorientation
played about her brow.
“Excuse me,” she said, backing
away. Her eyes widened in fear as the
big cat brushed past her.
When they arrived at the main dinning
room, everyone else was seated and waiting for them. The table was set of Keliof’s finest china
and crystal. A vast array of food was
set about in delicious abundance.
“I see that becoming female has done
little to improve your natural tardiness, cousin,” noted Kelvris as they
entered.
Prince Keliof glared at his son’s
disrespect, “I remind you that you are addressing the heir to the throne of
Lorm, boy.”
The chastened young man apologized,
“So sorry Your Highness.”
Tolian and Brythia took their seats
at the great table.
“I appreciate your deference, my
uncle,” commented Tolian, “But it is misplaced.
How can I, now a woman, be heir to the Lormian throne? It is not possible.”
“But, surely,” offered jovial Keliof,
“You won’t be stuck in that form forever.”
“Yes,” replied a grim Tolian, “I
shall.”
There was an awkward and
uncomfortable silence, before Tolian spoke again, “All is not lost,
however. The true line of succession is
unbroken, for I present to you Myrthis, the Daughter of Rethig, who bears
within her the next king of Lorm.”
“The daughter of Rethig,” repeated
Prince Keliof in disbelief. “Your
parents will be overjoyed at this news, child.”
“I ask you, uncle, to present her to
my father as the mother of my child.
Please make certain she receives every comfort.”
Keliof nodded, “I shall do as you
say, Tolian. Though as far as I am
concerned, man or woman, you are still the rightful heir to the throne.”
“I appreciate your high regard for
me, but I can never return to my country in this form. I could not bear the shame and ridicule that
would come to the House of Hemris. After
tomorrow when I leave Dril Prolt, I shall not return to Lorm.”
Tolian began to eat and said nothing
more. She was aware that she had failed
to properly introduce Brythia and Findelbres, but words were too hard for
her. A dull despondency had taken hold
of her and being there in that dinning hall, where she had eaten many a fine
meal as a young boy, allowed too many memories to overwhelm her. Now, for the first time, she truly understood
that this was it. She would never again enter her beloved country. She had lost everything.
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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