Chapter 29
A measure of unreality pervaded
Tolian’s perceptions.
It seemed like a dream to her.
She gazed upon her uncle and cousin for what she knew to be the last
time. The old country elegance of Dril
Prolt stood as a backdrop pulling forth memories unbidden of childhood summers
spent playing in the white sand of the surrounding pine barrens. It was all gone now.
“Farewell, my uncle and my cousin,”
said Tolian, “For I shall not see you again in this world.”
Keliof admonished her, “I’ll not hear
such talk of the next king of Lorm. Mark
my words, boy, you’ll see us again, and you will take the throne. No magick will stop that. Good luck to you, my nephew. Your quest is a mighty challenge, but I can
think of no better warrior for the task.”
“Believe what you will and prepare
for war. Remember, my father must not
know of my condition. Oh, and make sure
our Myrthis, here, wants for nothing.”
“I shall see to it,” replied Kelvris.
“And you,” Tolian said to Myrthis,
“Take good care of Delorick and our child.
And yourself.”
Myrthis leaned over and kissed her on
the cheek, “Please be careful,” the druidess added.
Tolian drifted back into her dreamy
state as the others said their farewells.
She had to fight hard to bring her attention towards those around
her. She noticed that Findelbres led
three of the faerie horses, including her own stead, Whisper.
“You found Whisper!” she exclaimed.
“Indeed,” Findelbres said. “The other, surviving horse has returned to
the Sidhe, so we are left with three.”
Kelvris witnessing Tolian’s delight,
joked, “Girls and their horses.”
Tolian did not turn around, nor did
she wait for her companions. She leapt
up into Whisper’s saddle and rode away from Dril Prolt. She heard Brythia call out behind her.
“Hey! Tolian!
Wait up a moment!”
Tolian then heard the druidess
hastily apologize and thank Keliof for his hospitality. She wasn’t riding fast; the others would have
no difficulty in catching up. She could
stand it no longer. Lorm had too many
memories. It was too painful. She yearned to clear its boundaries as
quickly as possible. Then to find her
sword. Visualizing the Moonsword
immediately brought a calmness too her mind.
She could hear her companions galloping behind her. She stopped her horse and turned towards
them. Kilfrie was running in front of
the others with her long and graceful strides.
“You need to work on your manners, my
Lord,” chided Brythia.
“You allow mere words to hurt you,”
Findelbres said in
a casual tone, “This is a weakness you must
address. When you face the Demon you
must be without weakness, Tolian, or you are lost, and with you falls the
world.”
Brythia was as clearly surprised by
the Faerie’s words as Tolian was. They both
realized what he said was true. Wisdom
echoed from his remarks so spoken with a carefree friendly voice, that might
have easily have regarded the advantages of a strong dark ale or the best
fertilizer to use when growing carrots.
Even so, the manner in which he spoke also made many of Findelbres’ past
comments and actions clear to Tolian.
She understood immediately why the Faerie Queen had sent Findelbres to
accompany Tolian. He was sent, at least
partly, to immunize Tolian against the ridicule and abuse of others. It was vital that Tolian manage to achieve
mastery over her emotions, lest she be lured to make mistakes. Findelbres’ continuous jokes and comments
about Tolian’s transformation had been calculated to demonstrate this danger to
Tolian. She understood now.
“You are wise beyond your appearance,
sir,” Tolian acknowledged out loud, “I appreciate the lesson you have taught
me.”
“You have only yet learned the first
half of the lesson, it is my hope that you will be a quicker student now.”
Brythia nodded and smiled. Tolian could not avoid the conclusion that
the druidess had already deduced the second lesson. Tolian couldn’t begin to imagine what it was.
“Shall we be on our way then?” asked
Findelbres.
“Yes,” said Tolian.
“Definitely,” added Brythia.
Kilfrie purred as she paced about
with nervous energy.
Findelbres began to whistle a merry
little tune and urged his horse along the sandy road, lined by shrub
pines. Kilfrie trotted along behind him.
Brythia smiled, “Shall we ride on, my
lord?”
“Aye, my lady, let us ride on.”
Their route directed them through
endless stretches of the diminutive pines, broken by the occasional cedar lined
stream slipping brown and cool through the expanse. Every once in a while they would pass some
isolated farm, either growing cranberries or blueberries. They did not stop, the folk of the pines
generally kept to themselves as they were not fond of strangers in those wild
parts. It was considered wise by
travellers to pass such rural homesteads at fair berth, unless, of course, they
were kin to the inhabitants.
They travelled for days there in that
pine desert that occupied the border between Lorm and its western neighbor,
Threasia. There were no markers to
indicate precisely where the boundary existed.
No doubt, one would hear a different placement of the border from both
the King of Lorm and the King of Threasia.
In practice it mattered little, the land was wild and desolate, giving no
cause of disagreement.
Just west of the vastness of the
silent pine barrens, the marsh began. Ferns appeared among the ground cover. Cedar, hemlock and oak trees grew in
abundance. Off of the road (which was
surprisingly well maintained), marshes and swampland dominated. Wild cabbages popped up here and there,
shivering, it seemed, in the cold November wind. Kilfrie looked about the region with ears pricked alertly.
“We shall have to be careful,” warned
Tolian, “I have heard many a tale of the Western Marshes.”
“No doubt, mere mortal superstition,”
commented Findelbres.
“What sort of tales, Tolian?” asked
Brythia.
“Well, despite the fact that the road
through the swamp is the shortest route from Threasia to Lorm, travellers
almost universally take the more civilized northern road,” she explained.
“Who uses this road then?” asked
Findelbres.
“The berry farmers of the Pines take
their harvests to Threasia’s ports and markets.”
“And are not they afraid as well?”
“It is said,” Tolian answered, “that
the folk of the Pines have made a pact with the mysterious forces of the
marsh.”
“Ah, I see,” said Findelbres
dubiously.
“All that I said was that we should
be watchful in here, that’s . You can’t
be too careful,” Tolian said finally.
“He’s right, Findelbres,” Brythia
agreed. “Forewarned is forearmed, as the
expression goes.”
Their eyes strained into the tangled
depths of the murky recesses of the swamp.
A few birds darted across the road, but otherwise, their passing was
uneventful. As evening began to fall
they searched about for some convenient and dry stretch along the roadside, but
the road now passed through more and more watery country. There was, in fact, no spot off road that
afforded any sort of camp-able dryness any where in their immediate vicinity. They lit their torches and rode on for
several more hours into the night, searching for a satisfactory camp site.
“We’re not going to find anyplace,
let’s just camp in the middle of the road,” suggested a weary Brythia.
“Sounds fine to me,” agreed the
Champion.
Findelbres said nothing, he was
preoccupied, starring off into the dark fastness of the swamp.
“Look over there,” said the faerie,
pointing into the darkness.
Kilfrie let out an inhuman panther
shriek.
Brythia translated, “She says she
sees something too.”
“I don’t see anything,” Tolian
remarked.
“Keep looking,” suggested
Findelbres. “There did you see it?”
There it was. A glowing ball of light bobbed about in the
nighttime blackness several hundred yards away.
It almost appeared as a lantern, but there was about it a supernatural
radiation that defied explanation.
“I have heard legends of the
Will-o-the-Wisp, but I had never seen one,” Brythia said with some wonder in
her voice.
“How about two?” asked Findelbres,
pointing towards another of the spectral lights hovering even nearer towards
the left.
“Three,” pointed out Tolian,
indicating yet another ball of light.
“Everybody keep as still as
possible,” suggested the druidess.
“That is good advise for mortals,
whom the Will-o-the-Wisp seek to lead to their doom. However, the Folk of the Sidhe have no greater
sport, than the hunt of these luminous ghosts of the deep marshes,” said
etherial Findelbres, before he dashed off, impossibly, over the dark and watery
landscape.
They watched in doubt and horror as
Findelbres disappeared after the dancing balls of eerie bluish-green
light. He was almost instantly swallowed
up by the night.
“Findelbres!” cried Tolian and
Brythia in one voice.
No reply came to their ears.
“Why, in the name of the Goddess, did
he do that?” asked Brythia rhetorically.
“Wait here,” commanded Tolian as she
dismounted her horse.
“Tolian, no. You can’t go after him.”
“I have to try.”
With some trepidation Tolian stepped
carefully over to a dry patch next to a tree.
She held her torch before her as she made her way into the marsh. At first she made fairly good time and
managed to keep dry in the process. She
strained into the blackness, gaining no sight of the impetuous elf. She looked back towards the road, but was
unable to see that as well.
“Brythia!” she yelled.
There came no reply.
“Findelbres!”
Again no reply.
One of the Will-o-the-Wisps hovered
about fifteen yards from her. It
appeared to be no more than it seemed from a distance, a glowing ball of
light. It was examining Tolian with
interest. She looked down at her feet. A
patch of dry ground was a mere step away from the tree she clung to. She placed her foot there and before she knew
it she was sinking into deep water.
Confusion and disorientation immobilized her briefly, as she
unexpectedly sank, water running over her head.
Luckily, the armor of the Faerie Queen was extremely light. She was not
pulled down
by its weight to her doom.
She easily brought herself to the surface. She could see nothing. The torch had been extinguished by the
water. She swam through the swampy water
to some marginally dry land. She sank up
to her boots in murky mud. The situation brought back to her mind her encounter
with the troll. How differently things
were now, she mused grimly.
She returned her mind to her present
situation. Now there was no sign of the
Will-o-the-Wisp that had been close to her.
Several others floated in the air in the distance. Once again she ventured forth from her
semi-solid ground. In the darkness it
was even more difficult going. Her
general method was to leap from tree trunk to tree trunk. A spectral orb flashed by her head, she felt
herself being pushed with great strength.
She lost her balance and again splashed into the surprisingly deep water. This time an even greater degree of confusion
took hold of the prince. As she slipped
beneath the cold water, she had no idea whatsoever, where she was, what she was
doing, or that she was even underwater to begin with. Who was she?
Why was she so cold? Why did
water pour into her lungs when she opened her mouth? She frantically searched her mind for the
answers to her questions as she felt the life slip away from her. Blackness.
Whiteness. She remembered. She was the Goddess of the Moon.
An eerie bluish-green light descended
into the water. She felt a unique
sensation against her skin. It
tickled. Hurriedly she was pulled out of
the water. The Will-o-the-Wisp set her
gently down on a dry elevated area within the marsh. She coughed a large quantity of water out of her
lungs.
She shook her head and her normal sense of self returned. She quickly drove the nonsense about being
Goddess of the Moon from her head. She
was Tolian, the reluctant Champion, once again.
The Will-o-the-Wisp hung there in the
air before her, spinning about around an axis that ever-changed. Tolian got to her feet, keeping a wary eye
upon the shimmering globe of ghostly light.
It did not move from its position of twirling stasis. Once she stood up, the Will-o-the-Wisp
descended to the ground before her.
Tolian realized that the thing was bowing before her. She stared at it. It was a spectacular creature. At first it seemed to be no more than a globe
of light, not more than two feet in diameter.
It projected a sheen of blue-green energy that gave the thing its eerie
appearance. However, upon a more careful
examination it proved to be that the globe was only encircling a truly remarkable
being. Inside the sphere there was a
little creature, also made of glowing light that looked like a frog with
dragonfly wings. He stood rather like a
man, and indeed, wore clothing and a hat.
He was nearly imperceptible as he radiated that same blue green light
that made the sphere so brilliant. Just
as she was able to see the little frog man inside the orb, he bowed quite
formally and humbly. Tolian could
distinguish the embarrassment and discomfort even on the amphibian features of
the Will-o-the-Wisp.
“Can you understand me?” asked
Tolian.
Inside the sphere the creature nodded.
“Will you attempt to hurt me again?”
The Will-o-the-Wisp shook his small
head with vigor.
“Well, that’s good. Um, right,
then. Can you help me find my friends?”
The little fellow nodded, this time
with pleasure.
“And you won’t try and lead me
astray?”
No, he gestured, definitely not.
Tolian looked about in the darkness,
“It seems I have little to lose. Lead
on.”
The ball of light rose into the air
once again, just about level with Tolian’s head. It took Tolian over the marshy terrain. The creature did as good a job as could be
expected at leading her in that treacherous swamp. It did not take long however before other
Will-o-the-Wisps arrived. Each one bowed
low to Tolian in turn. She was beginning
to be able to see the little beings with ease within their energy orbs. There were females as well as males, and
they, each one of them was ecstatic at meeting Tolian. The marsh glowed with their numbers. Literally hundreds of them swirled about
delighting in Tolian’s presence. She
laughed aloud at their antics, despite herself.
The spectacle that the Will-o-the-Wisps displayed for her was
dazzling. Some danced in the air around
her, while others dipped beneath the marsh’s waters presenting an eerie waltz.
“Thank you, so much,” said Tolian,
“but I really must find my friends.”
With that they buzzed about Tolian so
quickly that she could not see what they were doing. Suddenly she was whisked off her feet and
carried into the air. Will-o-the-Wisps
flew around her as escort as well as supporting her flight. They moved at great speed. In no time at all they were lowering Tolian
on to the road next to an amazed Brythia and Kilfrie.
“How do you do it?” asked the stunned
druidess.
“I don’t know,” she replied. That wasn’t true, of course, but she was not
going to admit it, even to her self.
“They’re cute,” cooed Brythia.
“Aren’t they? Look inside the sphere.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just look.”
“I told you.”
The glowing creatures continued to
dance about the camp site with enthusiasm.
Tolian took Brythia’s hand in hers as the Will-o-the-Wisp performed for
them. Then Tolian remembered.
“Where’s Findelbres?”
“He hasn’t come back yet.”
“He’s back now,” came his
otherworldly voice nearing the camp.
“And just in time, I see you’re under attack.”
Tolian assured the faerie, “We are
not under attack.”
“But...,” stammered Findelbres.
“They are our friends,” Tolian
declared.
“But, the Host of the Sidhe always
hunt the Will-o-the-Wisp,” argued the elf, “I have captured one myself this
evening.”
He held up an ornately decorated jar
that contained one of the unfortunate creatures.
He continued, “These things are a
menace. Did you know that? They lure mortals into the marsh to their
doom. They’re simply spirits of the
swamps, their only purpose is to protect their wild, watery keep from
harm. They would sooner kill you than
have you damage their dominion of marsh.”
“Let it go,” commanded Tolian. She filled her voice with authority.
“But...”
“Now, Findelbres, right now.”
The faerie begrudgingly did as he was
told. The Will-o-the-Wisp flew out of
the jar and made obscene gestures at him.
“In this war,” Tolian said, “we need all
of the allies we can get.”
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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