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Empress of Clouds - Chapter 33

                                                                     Chapter 33

           

           

           

           

            Tolian leaned against the railing of her balcony and watched the wispy clouds pass by.  It had hit her hard that morning when Kreel advised her that it was the one-year anniversary of her captivity in the tower.  One whole year.  Gone.  Lost to her forever.  A year of restlessness, of loneliness, of yearning and pinning, of drug-induced numbness that soothed her aching soul.  A year spent dealing with a wound that would not heal—a wound that bled and ached everyday —that had transformed her womanly center of pleasure into a source of pain.  That robbed her even of the desire to pleasure herself.  Mercifully, the effects of the lust drug had worn off.  The theory that the problem was caused by the lack of moonlight seemed to be true.  Every day she felt physically weaker.  Every day it seemed to ache a little more.  She could feel the need for the Moon as a physical requirement, like hunger, or the need to sleep.  It seemed logical, as she was, after all, the Moon Goddess.  And the Moon ruled the womb.

            She was comfortable for the most part.  Her meals were always first-rate; she could swim, read, sleep, or watch plays and events in Faerie by means of the magickal tapestries in her rooms.  She found that she spent a great deal of time watching the tapestries and smoking the faerie pipeweed.  She never missed watching the aerial combats between two winged faerie warriors.  They reminded her of the Jarrels back home, but with an extra dimension.  Essentially, they had the same rules, however, with combat concluding when one warrior hit the ground.  Over the course of the year, she had picked her favorites, and often bet with Kreel on the outcomes of the matches.  Only friendly wagers, of course.  Tolian could have anything she wanted, within the guidelines of her imprisonment, so her fellow gambler had nothing to offer her.

            Her favorite thing to watch on the tapestries was definitely the Will-o-the-Wisp hunts.  She had a great fondness in her heart of the mysterious light-shrouded, hovering amphibians, since her encounter with them in the Great Marshes on her quest for the Moonsword.  She always rooted for them to get away from the faerie horsemen in pursuit.  She had to respect the determination of the faerie huntsmen and the incredible lengths they would put their steeds to.  Tolian was amazed at how much more faerie horses could do in Faerie.  They were faster, more agile, and able to bound such significant distances that they gave the impression of flight.  The hunts always took place at the twilight of soft summer evenings on the fields and in the forests that surrounded the Queen’s garden.  The faerie huntsmen went out on horseback armed with their ornate capture jars.  They set upon a wild chase of the small luminous beings, springing off their steeds with jars open in often vain attempts to snag the nimble creatures.  The huntsman to capture the most in an hour was declared the victor.  It was, as Findelbres had once told her, the most beloved sport of the Faerie Realm.  The huntsmen were held in the highest honor in Faerie, and deservedly so, Tolian thought.  For their acrobatics were extraordinary, and truly fascinating to watch.  But, Tolian always cheered on the Will-o-the-Wisp.

            She watched plays (both dramas and comedies), processions, and trained monster battles on the tapestries.  She made a few visits to the garden, but was disappointed in that she never again encountered the multi-colored fish.  She spent many hours playing with Pilt, who was now a female cat.

            She did everything she could to help Kreel adapt to her new womanhood.  The faerie tried to appear comfortable with the change, but Tolian could tell she still suffered from the initial reluctance to accept the situation that Tolian had endured.  Evidently, even faerie boys were taught that girls were lesser creatures, and such conditioning was difficult to overcome.  There was guilt for even feeling slight acceptance of the transformation.  There was so much more to it than that.  The sense of loss, at first was crushing.  She remembered that well.  From time to time, it still echoed through her.

            Tolian realized that Kreel’s transformation provided an excellent opportunity to examine her own feelings.  There were many things that she hadn’t thought of before.  Was she really still the same person she had always been, just in a different body?  Was she fundamentally different as a woman than she was as a man?  In some ways, she was forced to admit, she was a different person now.  As a man, she had been more reckless, less concerned with the effects of his decisions, and less caring in general.  The male Tolian was selfish and determined to succeed at all costs; the female version had learned compassion and concern for others.  And perhaps she felt some resentment that people treated her as a lesser being, less worthy of respect, but that was something within them, not her, she reminded herself.

            The physical changes were not an easy adjustment to make either.  With her goddess strength, she had not at first experienced the difference in physical prowess that her sexual transformation had wrought, but now she knew that she had less muscle and the corresponding lack of strength and in place of those muscles the strangeness of soft curves accompanied by a new vulnerability.  If I were a man, I would not be in this situation.  But, there were positives to being a woman and it was her job to make Kreel see that too.  Feeling beautiful, though taking a little getting used to, was a very enjoyable feeling.

             Kreel was quieter than Tolian had been about her discomfort, her dysphoria, but it was taking her much longer to come around than the princess had.  With Capreesh and Delotti’s assistance, she instructed Kreel in dressing in fashion, applying makeup, adjusting her movements to those more graceful and appropriate for a lovely faerie lady.  As work on Kreel progressed, Tolian found herself realizing that both sexes had advantages and disadvantages and that everyone had aspects of both genders as parts of their personalities.  Once she gained this awareness, she found herself feeling more whole and balanced.  She shared her realization with Kreel.

             She explained.  “You have to embrace the feminine parts of yourself now.”

             Over the course of that first year, she had begun to make that adjustment that Tolian remembered so well.  It gave Tolian a project to help keep her mind off her captivity and the hole in her heart that cried for her baby, for her family and friends, but mostly for Brythia.

            Mesdor and Gredalon began to slowly feminize during that first year, as well.  Subtle changes at first, but they progressed until they were noticeable.  Their features softened.  Obviously, they had grown breasts, but beyond that, Tolian could not say.  They were clearly dismayed and unhappy at the changes they were experiencing, but they made no effort to befriend her and tended to avoid contact with her as much as possible.  As per Tolian’s order, they were the only two permitted to leave the tower for any business required.  Their breaks from Tolian’s presence worked to slow their inevitable transformation.  Tolian also studied them to see if the Demon’s energies showed any signs of affecting them in appearance or attitude.  Towards the end of the year, harshness worked its way into their softening facial structures, a hawk-like, predatory aspect in their features.

            It was by watching the tapestries, however, that she first saw the corrupting power of the Demon’s presence, about two months before her anniversary in Faerie.  She was watching the day’s aerial combat.  Her favorite winged warrior, an undersized, but feisty competitor, named Chatrul, was seized with a bloodlust and beheaded his opponent in mid-air.  The tapestry zoomed up on his face as he did so.  His expression had changed from friendly to almost bestial in its demeanor and structure.  The savage grin he wore, not only revealed his fangs, but resembled only too well the expression of wanton malice that the Demon had worn.  She shuddered involuntarily as the realization hit her that eventually all Faerie would be corrupted by his evil.  Distressed, she commanded the tapestries to show a pleasant natural seashore scene, and left the room.

            After that she watched the tapestries less and spent more and more time in the library, or on her balcony staring down on Faerie (from her vantage point there, it still looked peaceful and beautiful) or up at the clouds.  The Empress of Clouds, she mused, lighting another bowl full of the faerie pipeweed and reflecting upon her year of impotence, of languishing in the limbo of her [KR]We know she’s wounded.  Consider that dragging this sentence out isn’t as effective as getting to the point.       captivity.  A [KR]This is all beautiful.  Great work on your rewrite, Diana.      powerless creature, not so different than many other women, perhaps, she thought, trapped by circumstances and physical weakness, devalued as a person, recast as an object—a thing—a tool of power for others to use as they will.

            She released the smoke from her lungs.  “Hail unto me, Tolian, Empress of Clouds.”  Looking out over the clouds, a sense of wry humor passed over her.  She affected a regal tone and addressed a small puffy white cloud passing by, “Pay abeyance, my wispy subject.  Pay homage to your empress.”

            To her shock, the cloud paused in its movement, held itself suspended still, and then the front part of the cloud (nearest to Tolian) dipped down.  She blinked in astonishment.

            Unless she was mistaken, the cloud had just bowed to her.  She leaned over the railing further and stared.

            The cloud held its position.

            “Um, rise,” Tolian quietly suggested.

            The cloud slowly raised itself higher in the air.

            Kreel, who had been staring off in the other direction, asked, “Who are you talking to?”

            Tolian looked at her, “This cloud.”

            She again addressed the cloud, “Move to the left.”

            The cloud did so.

            “Interesting,” observed Kreel.

            At that moment Mesdor came out to the balcony, shot Kreel an evil glare and announced to Tolain, “The Moon will be rising soon, you must come inside, Goddess.”

            Tolian smiled and whispered, “Thank you,” to the cloud, which bowed once again and then continued in its quiet trek across the Faerie sky.

Copyright 2004, 2015 Diana Hignutt

Moonsword now Available for Amazon Kindle

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Buy your copy today!

Empress of Clouds - Chapter 32

                                                                     Chapter 32

           

           

           

           

            The Pine Barrens.  That was what the folk of Lorm called them.  A strange name, Brythia thought, as short, scrub oaks were actually more populous than the pitch pines for which the landscape was named.  And it was anything but barren, though the white sandy soil resembled that of a desert; the druidess was always surprised when she traveled through those woods at the incredible variety of exotic wildlife and plant inhabitants they possessed.  Even in the depths of winter, signs of life were never far.  The air smelled of sand and pine.

            Delorick’s path had run true, and brought them without incident to the borders of that unique wilderness.  The weather had turned milder, and it had evidently not snowed anywhere near as much as it had to the west, for only here or there could Brythia’s eye detect a few patches of snow scattered on the brown oak leaves that lined the bases of the trees.  The oaks climbed to just above eye level, their bare and twisted limbs looking almost alien against the winter’s gray sky.  There were a great variety of birds that wintered there: crows, grackles, jays, and quail.  Mostly she saw them as they took flight, frightened by the approach of her companions (for she could move soundlessly).

            How melancholy and grim this wild expanse seemed.  Not like the friendly forests of eastern Lorm, or her favorite woods around the Haunted Mountains.  Here, even she, a nature priestess, felt unwelcome.  Few people made this tract their home, mostly berry farmers, and those who liked to keep their own company.  Strange tales of the area abounded.  Tales of mysterious homicidal blue mists that rose off the lakes and streams, of folk so twisted by isolation and inbreeding that they no longer looked human, of ghostly apparitions, and, of course, of the winged satyrs, or Pine Devils.

            There was a time that the Pine Devils and the druids were friends, but that was a long time ago, and none of the Order had encountered them in several hundred years.  They had become almost mythical.  Certainly, in Lorm and its neighbor, Therasia, they were more regarded as legend than fact.  That was the problem with Lormians, she mused, they never believe anything until they see it.  Tolian had never believed in trolls until one almost killed him (him, at the time) and Delorick, she recalled.  Ah, but Brythia was a druidess.  She had seen her fair share of preternatural creatures through ritual summoning and spirit visions.  She was certain that the Pine Devils existed, and on top of that, Findelbres claimed to have known a few of them.

            They journeyed two more days.  They barely spoke to each other so solemn was the mood of the desert of brush, sand, and trees.  The skies held fast to their gray shades, but at least the cloudy canopy held in the heat and kept it from getting too chill.  Brythia reflected on her last trip through the area, though still many miles from where they were now.  Her friend Kalabred had died there, and Kilfrie’s body was destroyed, at the hands of the Demon’s werewolves, in that region.  Delorick almost died; in fact, if it were not for Tolian’s intervention, she, Findelbres, and Myrthis would be dead too.  She strained to remember, but she had only seen so much, fighting for her life.  Somehow, Tolian, in the pit of desperation, found a way to access her divine power.  There was a sudden blast of silver radiance, and the werewolves were dead, Tolian standing in their midst.  So much power.  She simply could not fathom how Dowbreth had managed to take that away from her.  Her thoughts always took her back to Tolian.  Always.

            “We are nearly there,” announced Findelbres suddenly.  “I think we should probably walk the horses the rest of the way, or leave them here, better yet.  The way will be difficult, the trail narrow.”

            In silence, they slid off their horses.

            Findelbres led the way.  Brythia crouched and bent to follow him down the tiny path.  Green briar and thorn joined the crowded underbrush as they neared a small stream.  Black deer moss replaced the white sand underfoot.  The druidess looked back to see Delorick and Pagryus struggling to proceed while Kiliordes obviously remembered enough of Kilfrie’s training to avoid the snags.  Barren and leafless raspberry vines grew in profusion around the stream flowing with rusty brown cedar water through the lonely expanse.  The thorns were so heavy that the travelers had to crawl on their hands and knees over the tiny brook spanning no more than three feet at the point of their crossing.  A short distance past the stream, the path turned and headed towards its source and, luckily, the briar, raspberry, and thorns lessened and the way became clear enough that they could once again rise to their feet.

            It was, of course, all the same to Brythia, who could move as nimbly on all fours as she could on two legs through any terrain, but the others were clearly relieved.

            The pale circle of the sun, shrouded in gray, hung low in the sky.  It would dip below the horizon soon.  It occurred to her that she had fallen out of the habit of saluting the sun in its course, as was the druidic custom.  Some Priestess of the Sun she had become.  She stopped in mid-path, stretched her arms out wide, and faced the quickly fading orb.

            “Hail unto thee, mighty Sun in thy Setting.  Travel with joy to the kingdoms of Night.”

            The others waited patiently for her to finish and all resumed their quiet trek.

            A few minutes later, they had arrived at their destination.

            The Blue Hole.  A perfectly circular pool of water twenty-two yards in diameter.  Even in the dimming light, the water practically glowed with an eerie bluish luminance.  Brythia knelt down and dipped her fingers into the water.  Bitter cold.  It was said that the water of the Blue Hole was always cold, even in the heat of summer.  Other tales claimed that there was no bottom to the pool, that it simply could not be sounded, that it was infinitely deep.

            “Well, here we are,” said Pagryus matter-of-factly.  “Now what?”

            “The Blue Hole is useless to us without the Pine Devils to guide us,” replied Findelbres.  “So, we have no choice, but to wait.”

            “How can we be positive that one of these Pine Devils, if they truly exist, will come, and even then, will help us?” asked Delorick.

            Brythia watched all of them stare at the unearthly pond.  There was something so strange, unnerving about it, yet captivating to the eyes.

            “Trust me, friend Delorick,” said Findelbres, “they exist.  They are the guardians of the Blue Hole.  They are already aware of us.  In fact, I can hear one coming now, my skeptical Lormian friend.”

            A chill shot down Brythia’s spine.  She strained to listen, but at first could hear nothing.  Then the sound became just audible.  Like the leathery flapping of bat wings, only of a large bat and another sound, movement in the low pine and oak trees.

            “What are these Pine Devils?  Where do they come from?” asked Delorick.  Nervousness was evident in his voice.

            “The Winged Satyrs, or Pine Devils, are denizens of many worlds,” explained Findelbres.  “They are powerful beings, who keep largely to themselves.  Even the faerie folk know only little of them.  In any case, you are about to learn a great deal more than most people know about them.”

            Brythia could see a shadowy form moving just over the tops of the trees, heading towards them.  Lights seemed to flash around the creature.  As it neared, the details of its nature became more and more clear.  It was taller than a man, almost eight feet tall, she estimated, but was similarly proportioned.  Its torso was the most human part, save that it was lightly covered in hair.  Its legs resembled those of a goat, ending in cloven hooves instead of feet, and its head looked like amalgam of a horse’s and human’s.  The creature’s eyes glowed bright red.  Black wings, like those of a bat, spread over twelve feet.  It appeared to travel by flying and lightly stepping on the tops of the trees.  Strange flashing lights clustered around it, though she could not determine the source for this phenomenon.

            The Pine Devil let out a loud, piercing scream that cut through the gathering dusk like a knife.  Brythia’s hand instinctively found the hilt of the Moonsword.  Findelbres stepped forward in a friendly manner.

            “Hail friend,” he addressed the Pine Devil, even as it alighted on the ground.

How fearsome he was (for Brythia perceived the creature to be male).  His penetrating red eyes quickly scanned them and then leveled his gaze upon Findelbres.  “This place is forbidden to all, mortals and faerie alike.”  His words were perfectly pronounced, its voice rough, but quite human sounding.

            “We have an errand of some importance,” Findelbres explained.  “We are in pursuit of the Moon Goddess.”

            “She is in Faerie,” the Pine Devil replied.  “She has taken claim to the throne there, as is her right.”

            Brythia stepped forward.  “She is a prisoner.  Anything she is doing is done under duress.  We have got to get to Faerie to rescue her.  Please, you must help us.  She’s my wife.”  The desperation in her voice was obvious.

            The Pine Devil turned to her.  He then did something that took the druidess completely by surprise.  He bowed low before her.

            “I am your humble servant, Consort of the Goddess,” he said with sincerity.  “But, I cannot do what you ask.  I beg your forgiveness.”

            Brythia was considerably taken aback by his complete change of attitude, and though she had become somewhat used to such demonstrations of abeyance as a Lormian princess, it had not prepared her for a situation like this.  Nevertheless, he said he could not help her.  Nothing else really mattered.

            “You have only to take me to Faerie, that’s all I ask of you.  Please, I’m begging you.”  She fell to her knees.  Tears gushed from her eyes.  “Please, she needs me.  I can feel it.  Something terrible has happened to her.  I can feel her pain across the worlds.  You’ve got to get me to Faerie.”

            The Pine Devil gently took her hand and, rising himself, brought her to her feet.

            “It will not do to have the Goddess’ wife kneeling or pleading to me,” he said softly.  “I am your willing servant, if it is within my power, I shall do anything you ask of me.  Through the Blue Hole, I can take you to any world you wish to visit, but I cannot take you to Faerie.”

            Shock.  Not to Faerie.

            “Why not?” the druidess demanded.

            “The way to Faerie is closed,” the Pine Devil said with finality.  “There is no way in or out.”

Copyright 2004, 2015 Diana Hignutt

Empress of Clouds - Part IV The Moon - Chapter 31

PART IV

            The Moon

            

                                                                     Chapter 31

           

           

           

           

            Tolian lay there, racked by desire and pain.  Her eyes were wide and transfixed upon the new nightmare that leered down at her.  She held her nose in a vain attempt to staunch the bleeding.

            “What’s wrong, Moon Goddess?” mocked the Demon’s head, foul and reeking.  “Nothing to say to an old friend?”

            “You’re dead,” she mumbled, almost incoherently.  “I killed you.”

            “A minor setback, nothing more.  Now, not only do I have you at my mercy, safely removed from interfering in my plans, but I have a whole new world to twist and defile.  And now there is no one to stop me in the material world either.  You should have done a more thorough job, he-bitch.”

            “Put that thing away,” Tolian shouted at Dowbreth.  “Or is it your master, Dowbreth?  How did you fall under its thrall?”

            Dowbreth grimaced but a second then his confident sneer returned to his own ghastly features.  He set the head on the table on top of the bag, pulled one of the chairs around, and sat down (facing the chair back) right next to Tolian.

            “Dowbreth has no master,” he said quietly, his rage steeping behind his words.  “Dowbreth is Lord of Faerie now.  The Demon and I have a mutually beneficial relationship—as equals.  But if you are curious as to my tale, I shall tell it to you.  You should know, really.  It will help burn you up with despair as you wallow in your own failure.  It is fitting that you should lose your divine powers; you are not worthy of power.  You are now the worthless woman you deserve to be.”

            “Hah-he-he-ha-hah, worthless woman,” interjected Hertrid’s head from the table, “We are going to have such a fine time with you.  Hah-ha.”

            Dowbreth shrugged off the interruption and continued.

            “I discovered my true destiny on the battlefield of Lorm.  It was I who led the forces of the Sidhe to assist your puny Lormian men against the Demon’s invading army.  Thanks to our troops, your palace was saved and your enemy defeated.  After we cleared the skies of dragons, we brought the fight back to the ground.  Soon, we were triumphant.”

            Not exactly how Tolian remembered it, but she did not bother to contradict him.  It was difficult for her to have him sit so close to her.  Fear and lust for him battled for control of her emotions.

            “On the battlefield, I watched as the Demon almost killed you even then, but for your lucky strike which felled him.  But then, when you could have made certain of his death, you fled to the palace to rescue your beloved.  I, at that time, assumed the Demon had been killed, and I thought to add his head to my trophy belt, a memento of the conflict.  As I took my prize, the eyes opened and the black orbs fixed upon me.  I remember that moment well.

            “I asked the creature plainly, ‘What are you looking at, villain.  Your day is done, your army here destroyed, soon the rest of your forces elsewhere shall fall as well.”

            “‘Is that what you believe, Lord Dowbreth?’ it hissed at me.  ‘You are wrong.  My defeat, my impotence—they are a shroud to hide my true schemes from my enemies.  One day all will be mine, mark my words.’

            “I laughed at the head’s face, ‘Brave words for a defeated foe.  I do not wish to hear your false boasts.’

            “And I stuffed the head in this bag and proceeded with cleaning up the last of the Demon’s troops while you were letting his other incarnation escape with your girlfriend.  I supervised the establishment of the Faerie camp on the perimeter of the palace and secured the arrival of my King and Queen into your world.

            “Once the fighting was over, I grew restless.  I had no desire to associate with our human allies, so I spent most of my time in my tent awaiting orders to move north against the Demon’s other incarnations and army.  It occurred to me that I might be able to gather useful intelligence from my trophy.  I pulled it out of the bag.  Again, those black eyes gazed upon me.

            “‘Dowbreth, has found the wisdom to seek my counsel,’ the head said.  ‘Excellent.  I will tell you what you want to know, and more.’

            “‘You may as well,’ I responded.  ‘You shall be defeated soon enough.  Tell me where is your other army going to strike next?  Reveal to me your plans.’

            “‘Indeed, I shall, Dowbreth who could be Lord of Faerie.  I shall reveal all of my plans to you.  I plan to devour this world, twist it into a nightmare of beautiful chaos churning in the infinite night.  And I plan to use you to help me, brave warrior chieftain.’

            “I grew impatient with the head, for even as I demanded he give me the information I required, he kept telling me that he would, but also that I was a part of his plans.  In frustration, I once again stuck the head in the bag and attempted to ignore it.  But I found I could not leave it long.  I was determined to be the master of the Demon’s head, a foolish notion I now know, but at the time, it did not seem so.  I pulled the head back out of the bag.  I interrogated it for another two hours without making any progress.  I threw the head around the tent, but that simply made it laugh hysterically.  I held it still, for I did not want anyone else to know of my prize.

            “Finally, the Demon began to make sense to me.  It was not giving me the military information I wanted, but was instead laying out the framework for a scheme that would work to both of our advantages.  He was right, I was meant to be Lord of Faerie, and with my new ally, his vast knowledge, cunning, and yes powers, it could be so.  He made me understand.  I had no love of my King and Queen in any event, and he helped me see that there was no true honor serving them.  I asked Kreel, who was my best lieutenant, to take charge of the army of the Fay, while I tended some personal business.  I told no one where I was going, nor did I bother to ask leave of my Lord and Lady.  Who were they to Dowbreth now?  Dowbreth would conquer them in due time, the Demon promised, and he has proven to be true, has he not?”

            “I am Dowbreth’s truest ally,” came a cackling outburst from the head.

            Dowbreth paused a moment, then continued.

            “I decided to trust him and join him.  First, he needed me to obtain something for him.  Something rare.  I set out in quest of it.

            “It took me several months of journeying across the wastelands of the North and beyond.  To a land locked in perpetual winter, somewhere so cold and bitter that it could only be located in your inhospitable world.  For three weeks, I saw nothing but the whiteness of snow.  I rode across of the frozen surface of a sea to find what the Demon wanted.  And find it I did.

            “There was a witch who lived, somehow, in that white desert, in an ice castle set upon an island in the midst of the frozen sea.  The crone was half undead, and she had some power to her.  The Demon protected me from her spells, however, and it was with great joy that I wrung her neck with my bare hands.  It felt good to do so, since it was some time since the battle of Lorm, and I have always relished the giving of death.  She struggled futilely in my grasp, but she could not resist the strength of Dowbreth.  No one can.  I searched the castle until I found that which the Demon had sought.  A dark metal stone.  Black and cold.  It seemed such an insignificant thing for such a harsh quest.

            “‘What is this that you have had me trek across the mortal world for?’ I asked the Demon.  ‘In what way will it serve our ends?’

            “‘This is the key to our victory.  It is the Dark Moon Metal.’

            “I had not heard of it, so I repeated his words, ‘Dark Moon Metal?’

            “I see by the look on your face that you have not heard of it either,” observed the faerie to the princess.  “You make a poor Moon Goddess indeed.  Listen and you will learn much.”

            “The Demon explained it to me: ‘This witch hath distilled this stone over three hundred years from the darkling rays of the new moon.  Her schemes for it are irrelevant now, but through her craft she has delivered to us the means to destroy my enemy and gain you control of Faerie.  We shall use it as a weapon against the druid’s champion.’

            “‘A weapon?’ I asked, ‘Will we use it as a projectile?’

            “‘No, my friend.  The Dark Moon Metal will absorb and nullify the external manifestation of her lunar power.  We shall fashion it as a piece of jewelry, a gift, and bind her forever.’”

            “And he told me more of his plan, much of which I am sure you have gleaned yourself.  I stayed in that ice castle for another month forging the Dark Moon Metal into the bracelet you now wear.  The Demon carefully instructed me in the proper techniques of manufacture.  It had to be perfectly designed and made.  While there, the Demon revealed to me that we already had an ally with whom I could communicate using his head as the magickal means.  Other dark secrets he taught me, and we planned more together.  He told me of the defeat of the other demonic incarnations and the outcome of the war, but assured me that it was not unexpected.  Now, more than ever we needed you out of the way.”

            Tolian listened from her position on the floor.

            “What about Kiliordes? Aren’t you afraid of him?” she asked at last.  “He is the other Champion, isn’t he?”

            The Demon’s head began laughing with malicious humor.

            “There is no other Champion, my sweet,” it hissed.  “And we have no fear of the conglomerate being.  Don’t you get it?  Everything was part of my plan.  I allowed Kiliordes to kill Perelisk.  It bought me the time I needed to remove you from the equation.”

            Instinctively, Tolian shrunk up against the balcony railing.  Terror now flowed wildly within her.  She started to shake.

            Dowbreth stood up, tossed the chair out of his way, grabbed the head, rather roughly by the hair, and stepped towards her.  “You need to be taught a lesson for what you attempted with Kreel yesterday, and what you tried to do to me today, wench.” He knelt down next to her.  She tried to squirm away from him, but he was too fast and far too strong.  He struck her hard again in the face. 

            She was paralyzed by fear.  She was helpless.  There was nothing she could do.  She closed her eyes and summoned the warrior’s mantra to her mind.  She struggled to find the courage within herself to endure.  Fear is for my enemy.  Fear is defeat and the forerunner of defeat.  I will hold no fear. 

            “Mark my words.” 

            She could barely croak out a shattered whisper. 

            “I shall kill you both.”

            The head spat upon her.

            “Understand,” said the faerie giant, “with the Demon’s head I am immune to your transforming energies.  You are nothing compared to the Demon.”  He kicked her hard, several times, following her body across the balcony. 

            The Demon screamed, “Kick her, kick her like a dog.”

               The last blow landed in her abdomen.  The pain echoed throughout her body, until her senses were overloaded with it.

              Dowbreth grabbed her by the hair and brought her face close to his.  “In seven years, we will be married.  You will not escape.  There is nothing you can do to change this.  Remember, the injuries you suffered today were the result of your own treachery.”

            “Come, Lord Dowbreth,” said the head, “Our business here is completed.”

            Dowbreth stared down at her with utter contempt.  “Do not attempt to escape.  Do not attempt render yourself useless to me.  Or we will be back.  Do you understand me?”

            She tried to hold his stare, but she could not.  She looked away submissively.

            “Capreesh,” bellowed Dowbreth.  “Get out here.”

            As the Elven girl hurried out to the balcony and seeing Tolian rushed to her side, Dowbreth said, “Farewell, my betrothed.”  He turned and left.

            The pain was intense.  She could tell that some of her injuries we extensive. 

            More servants came running out.  Kreel was among them.  She lifted Tolian and carried her with great gentleness to the bed.  “Quickly,” she snapped, “get bandages, get pain suppressants, get the healing drugs.  Hurry, she’s already lost a lot of blood.”

            Tolian could barely maintain consciousness.  She looked into Kreel’s eyes and saw genuine concern there.  “How bad do I look?” she asked weakly.

            Kreel smiled reassuringly, “This is not your best look, but you’re going to be fine.  We’ll have you better in no time, okay?”

            Tolian nodded slightly, before unconsciousness engulfed her.

           

            In the morning, she awoke to excited voices.

            “She’s moving,” Delotti said.

            “She’s awake,” said Capreesh.

            As she opened her eyes, Kreel’s smile was the first thing she saw.

            “Good morn,” the bodyguard said with feigned cheerfulness.  “How do you feel?”

            “I don’t know,” Tolian replied.  She felt [KR]If you use “remarkably improved” then you should say “felt” because being aware of something is implies weakness.  Remarkably is a powerful word, so take the active voice.      remarkably improved, physically.  The wounds to her face felt completely better, but she felt considerable discomfort in her belly.  “Yes, I do feel better.  A lot better than I did last night.”

            “Last night?” repeated Capreesh.

            “You’ve been a sleep for a week, dear,” said Kreel.  “Most of your wounds have healed perfectly.  We still don’t understand why, but you seem to have developed some sort of internal condition that isn’t responding to our medicine.”

            She was trying to sound as clinical as possible.  She was obviously deeply distraught.

            “You’re weeping blood from your ...um, female regions.  It’s not just internal injuries and it’s not your period— we have drugs that would have worked, if it were because of either of those.  It’s possible that since you are the Moon Goddess, your exile from the Moon’s rays is causing the problem.  At this point it doesn’t seem directly related to Dowbreth’s attack.”

            Tolian flinched immediately as the memory of her attack poured fully into her consciousness.  An abyss of darkness, a scar across her soul.  A psychic pain radiated through every level of her being.  Tears streamed down her cheeks.  Kreel leaned over and embraced her.  She could not stop crying.  She sobbed and sobbed, clutching firmly onto the feminized faerie.

            “It’s going to be all right, Tolian,” she said in reassuring tones.  “I won’t let this happen ever again.  I promise you, he won’t touch you again.”

            “You can’t understand,” the princess muttered.  “It’s just not just what he did to me, it’s what’s going to happen to everything.  Dowbreth is in league with the Demon.  He has the Demon’s head.  Oh Gods.  What have I done?”

            She knew she wasn’t making any sense, but her three faerie friends seemed to understand her nonetheless.  Crushing guilt.  Now confusion.  Fear.  And still a lingering desire for a man burning in her womanhood.

            “Can you eat, Lady?” asked Delotti, ever practical.  “You do need sustenance badly,”

            “I’m not hungry,” she whispered.

            Kreel released her, stood back a little from the bed, and regarded her.  “Delotti is right, Tolian,” she said.  “You have to eat.  We’ll do a little something to get your appetite up, okay?”

            Tolian wiped the tears from her eyes with a handkerchief which Capreesh handed her, “I don’t know what.”

            “Leave that to me.”  Kreel turned to one of the attendants who stood in waiting by the door, “Fetch the pipe weed.  The Queen’s best.”

            The girl departed at once.  A few moments later, she returned carrying a tray.  Upon the tray:  an ornate stone pipe, a pouch, and a lit candle.  She handed the tray to Kreel, who sat down on the bed, just next to Tolian, and expertly packed the bowl with the pipeweed from the pouch.

            It was not the first time Tolian had seen pipeweed.  Indeed, she had even partaken of it at the Druid’s Temple of the Stars, Hyge Nuyt.  Under the influence of the druid’s smoke, she had traveled either astrally or in a dream (she wasn’t certain of the difference) to the Queen’s Garden and first met Ymirisiva.

            “Is this anything like the pipeweed the druid’s use?” she asked.

            Kreel smiled.  “It’s similar, but, of course, better.  You know how to smoke then?”

            “Yeah, I did it once before.”

            “Very well, let’s get started.”

            Kreel used the candle to light the bowl, took a big pull of it, and handed it to Tolian.  She took it from the faerie and inhaled the smoke deeply into her lungs, holding it there.  It burned and stung.  With a cough, she released it.

            Immediately a feeling of euphoria stole over her.  Everything seemed outlined in the faerie rainbow spectrum.  She was just enjoying these new sensations when Kreel handed her the pipe once again.  She was beginning to relax, to feel more herself, but at the same time less so.

            When they had finished smoking, Tolian was hungry and laughing at a joke of Kreel’s that wasn’t really even funny (besides which, she instantly forgot what it was).  Soon she was eating breakfast in bed.  She felt insulated from her problems.  She definitely liked the faerie pipeweed.

            She glanced over and saw Kreel looking distant and troubled.

            “What’s wrong?” Tolian asked her.  “Brooding over your sex change?”

            “Always, but that wasn’t it, right then,” she replied.  “If the Demon is truly in Faerie, our world is in serious trouble.  The effects of your presence here in isolation seem to be minimal, well, except for me of course, but the Demon’s evil will quickly spread and corrupt all of Faerie.  With Dowbreth in charge, there is nothing we can do about it.”

            A calm certainty came to Tolian, growing stronger as she spoke.  “I don’t want you three to leave our suite without me.  None of the servants are to leave; send Mesdor and Gredalon for supplies or whatever.  But, Kreel, rest assured, someday, somehow I will free Faerie from the Demon’s evil and slay Dowbreth in the process.”

            And she knew that she spoke the truth.

            “Well, right now,” said Delotti, “you’re going to soak in the tub.  It should help heal your wound, if that’s the right word.  Lots of soaking is what you need.”

            Tolian summoned a tiny smile.  “More food first, please?”

Copyright 2004, 2015 Diana Hignutt