Authors: P. K. Eden
Her eyes flew open. “It’s all so incredible.”
“Walk with me, daughter,” Alara directed in response to Amber’s tone.
“Please,” Amber said, refusing the hand offered to her with a shake of her head. “Stop calling me that.”
Alara’s gray eyes flashed and then tempered with understanding. The wind blew a chill around them as Alara nodded her agreement. “For now.”
Amber followed her mother out of the castle. She could hear the sound of a waterfall running soothingly in the background and what seemed like an endless rustle of leaves in the breeze. She looked around. When had the sun gone down? The night breeze was light and caught her hair, lifting it from her shoulders.
“I don’t belong here,” she said, feeling the pendant between her breasts tingle. Almost on instinct, she hooked her thumb around the chain, lifting it from her skin. “I feel like an intruder.”
“And that, Amber, is the impasse.” Alara placed her hand over Amber’s. When she did, the light from the pendant doubled and tiny rays of what looked like starlight rose from between their fingers. Alara smiled. “It is telling you that you are one of us.” She removed her hand. “Come, Amber.”
They had gone a little way when they came to a stream flowing from tree-clad slopes coming down from the mountains. It splashed over a fall in the shadows to their right. In the bright starlight they could see flowers floating on the foam. To the right, what seemed at first like a swarm of fireflies soon turned into a line of fairy children following two elders.
“Stay in formation,” one shouted over his shoulder. “Older fliers, help the first fliers stay in line.”
Amber stopped walking and watched as the line looped and swirled overhead and continued to the west.
“The children prepare for the Triad,” Alara said softly. “There is no time for the Birth Ones to teach them the ways slowly as was in the past. The dark time is falling and the Younglings must learn quickly if they are to have any chance of survival”
Amber gaze’s followed their trailing light. “Where are their parents?”
“Preparing also.”
They walked toward the sound of shouting and the whoosh of arrows piercing the air. Beyond the tree line, a crowd of fairy men gathered around a taller man clothed in garments the color of the earth.
“An elf,” Alara said in response to the questioning look on Amber’s face. “A Halfling, part fairy, part human and allied with the fae. Very skillful with the bow, he teaches our men the art.”
Amber nodded, watching him as he drew the bowstring back and then released the arrow he had set in place. It flew into the center of the target.
“An outcast like me, now welcome for a purpose,” Amber said as she watched him reload his arrow. Her tone did not disguise her distaste.
The darkness hid the tears that gathered in Alara’s eyes. “No, a friend, come to help us survive.”
“But he is accepted. I was expelled.”
“You were hidden. For your own welfare as much as ours.”
Amber stopped walking. “Was he hidden also?”
Alara shook her head. “No.”
A snicker escaped Amber’s throat. “Why me then?”
“You are more than he,” Alara said, her voice almost a whisper wrapped in melancholy. She gestured toward the small gathering. “The one aiming the bow is Corin Redwing. He wishes to wed but has put off proposing to his love, Roswyn, because of the dark times coming. He does not wish to cause her pain should he have to fight and perhaps die for Everwood.”
“This Roswyn, she’s agreed to wait?”
Alara smiled. “They play lovers’ games. She thinks he does not even know she exists and she pretends he does not.” Alara dipped her head. “Not so unlike humans in love.”
Amber watched Corin carefully aim and then shoot the arrow into the center of the target about fifty yards away and let her thoughts drift to David. She ached for him to be with her and wondered if he still waited outside the ring. She loved him so much but if her dreams were prophecy, they would never be married either.
As they watched Corin accept the hearty pats of approval on his back, Amber wondered how her decision would affect Corin. Would he have to use the new skill he had learned to defend Everwood? Would he ever marry the woman he loved or would the events spiraling to the culmination of the prophecy keep them apart as it would keep her from David.
Alara gestured for them to continue walking. “Everwood is not unlike the upworld in many respects, and the fae not so different from humans in wanting a life free from want and strife. We have families, we work, we live and we die and along the way we strive for happiness and peace.”
Amber bit down on her lip. Every synapse in her brain seemed to be firing at once, trying to absorb and record all the information coming at her from all directions. She winced and shut her eyes tightly. Would she ever understand it all?
She opened her eyes and turned in a slow circle, letting the line between her world and Alara’s blur. If she didn’t know better, she could be in any glade, any forest, anywhere on earth. Did this world deserve any less consideration than her own? Maybe as much as she belonged with the humans, she also belonged here. She covered her mouth with her hand. She just didn’t know.
Soon they came to a clearing in which sat a large white tent. Standing regal and tall in front of it was Tolhram, his arms enfolded in his great black and purple cloak, with only the shining silver of his hair a light contrast against it.
It hadn’t bothered her one bit that he’d arrived in this place before them, after all she was in some sort of weird fairy realm.
Alara lightly touched Amber’s arm, urging her toward her grandfather. As they got closer to him, Amber could see his mouth set in a grim line but when her gaze met his, she swore she could also see compassion.
“Look, I’m sorry about back there. I don’t usually kick around old men.”
“Your hostility is understandable, and your power, although crude, is admirable,” he said rubbing his backside.
“So I guess this is it,” she said to him. “This is the part where you tell me what I have to do to save the world.”
Tolhram looked first at his daughter and then back at Amber. “And you must listen well because you are the only one who can.”
“Stop saying that,” Amber said. “There must be other hybrids in Everwood. A strong, young elf teaches the men here to use a bow just beyond the tent flap. Surely he knows enough to do what has to be done.”
“Our elfin friend can do no more. He must soon return to those of his kind to prepare for the Triad.”
“It seems as though no one is doing much of anything to stop this Triad thing besides talking about it,” Amber said.
“What must be done is destiny. It cannot be changed.”
“I refuse to believe that. Everything changes.”
“Only in accordance with divinity. It is never easy to accept one’s destiny when that destiny conflicts with a future envisioned,” Tolhram replied in a calm even tone. “All that is happening is coming to pass because it must.”
Amber let out a exasperated breath of air. “Riddles. You speak in riddles.” The tone of her voice betrayed her rising irritation. “Just tell me what to do so I can do it. My father is missing and David…” She stopped. “Just tell me.”
“The Old Ones have told you in dreams and visions. I know this because they have also spoken to me.”
Amber’s shoulder heaved. She’d had vivid dreams since childhood, many she had dismissed as the result of her spirited imagination and love of books. But lately, she had to admit, the dreams had become repetitive, detailed and more frightening, more like nightmares. She looked into Tolhram’s eyes and knew it would do no good to deny it.
“I try to forget them,” she in a low tone.
“Some of the most important things we will ever know are things you say are forgotten. But these things are locked inside you and this is where the fear comes from. You must overcome that fear if you are to succeed.”
“Lesson one?” Amber asked.
“No. Lesson one was when you called out to Teezal for help when you were lost in the woods as a small child. You felt her presence and you reached out to it. Think back. What did you discover?”
Amber closed her eyes. She was back in the woods. The wind was shrieking and it seemed as though all the limbs of all the trees were trying to grab her. She could feel the night air on her face and the mist that hung on the trees. But she remembered she could also feel something else, like the warmth of a light shining in the distance.
“That I was not alone.”
“That was the first lesson and it set the tone for the rest of your life.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“It was the first time you opened your core to us. The fear made you recognize what always had been, that we were there with you. And you learned to sense our presence, its security molding you without you even being aware of it, building you into the strong being needed to accomplish what must be done.”
Something shivered down Amber’s spine, a prickle, a sensation like a live wire underneath her skin. “And lesson two?” she said, slowly.
Tolhram swept back the tent flap with one hand. “It begins now.”
Jolinax could hear Gorash thrashing around in his cave at the edge of the Dolmans spitting angry words and noises he could barely understand. The Master was angry. He understood that well enough.
Jolinax entered the cave. The floor dropped down and then rose up several meters then dropped off steeply to a deep open area surrounded by high walls. In the center of the cave-room was Gorash. Around him were four smaller trolls hurrying to attend to his every wish. Gorash was using a tree trunk that he had snapped off as a club to smash the ground every time he roared.
“No!” The word was followed by another smash of the club. “The mixture does not work. Bring me more!” Those around him scattered to comply.
“Your majesty,” Jolinax called as he stepped from the shadows. Gorash’s huge head turned toward him. “I have news of the Keeper.”
Gorash howled and hit a large rock to his left with the club sending splinters across the cave. “Tell me, quickly. Where is Amber?”
Jolinax moved closer. “She has entered the Ring to Everwood.”
“She must not escape us again.” Gorash paced as he spoke, eyeing Jolinax with the eyes of a predator. “I need her for more than just to ensure the failure of the Triad.”
“Even now I have a Watcher posted nearby. When she emerges from the Ring, he will follow her. She will be within our control by the new moon.”
Gorash eyed the troll warily, his keen senses detecting the scent of uncertainty. “This Watcher. He can he trusted?”
“Implicitly. I have promised him command of a legion as Troll Moot after the darkness comes. He will follow my every order,” Jolinax assured.
Gorash slowed his pacing and came to a stop in front of Jolinax. “You do not have the power to promise this.” He kicked out, sending Jolinax skidding across the dirt floor of the cave. “Troll Moot will go to who I say.”
Rising slowly, Jolinax was careful to keep his head respectfully low. “Yes, your majesty, I fear I was over zealous in my endeavor to aid you in any way I could. Forgive my foolishness. It is simply a ploy to keep the Watcher close and true.”
A din behind them made Gorash turn away. The four trolls had come back. As they approached, Jolinax could see their clothes were splattered with blood. The lead troll held a cup out to Gorash who took it and drank eagerly. He drained the cup and stood, hands outstretched, head thrown back as if waiting. After what seemed like an eternity, he straightened and threw the cup against the cave wall.
“Nothing,” he roared. “I feel nothing.” He grabbed the troll closest to him by the scruff of the neck. “Bring me more. Different proportions this time.”
Feet barely touching the cave floor, the troll in Gorash’s grip struggled to speak. “Your majesty, we have no more captives. We drained the last sprite and orc to make this mixture.”
With an easy flick of his wrist, Gorash tossed the troll against the cave wall. “This proves that only the blood of the Keeper will sustain my human form. Only she has the proper heredity allocations running through her veins to control The Taking.”
“I will deliver the tri-bred to you at the palace.” Jolinax thumped his fist to his chest in salute. “This I promise you.” He made sure his gaze met those of the troll king, his crooked smile sly and unwavering. “This I promise with the hope of being made Troll Moot Chieftain of
all
the Legions.”
Gorash’s returning growl echoed like thunder in the cave. “Bring me Amber and you may have whatever you wish.”
* * * * *
Marcus sat back against the cold wall of the ice cave, He didn’t know if it was the crisp shock of frigid arctic air that stung at him or the fact that he may have just come face to face with Amber’s father. His gaze still held that of the man who called himself Brian McKenna.
Could it really be? How could any human survive this long in these deep, solid caves of ice?
He could see that Brian was once a strong and sturdy fellow. Despite his weakened condition, Marcus could still see sinewy muscle shaping Brian’s arms from the long hours spent chipping away at the horrendous ice caverns. He had been told Amber’s father was a woodsman, a life that undoubtedly contributed to Brian’s survival all these years.
However, in the next second, skepticism invaded his mind. Perhaps the man wasn’t human at all. Maybe this was all a trick the trolls were playing on him. He studied the heavily bearded man shoving food into his mouth trying to discern if any of his features resembled Amber’s.
If this man was really Brian McKenna, Amber’s true father, Marcus wondered if he even knew she existed. Marcus turned away, tears swimming in his eyes. Maybe he didn’t really want to know. A threatening feeling crept up Marcus’ legs, a feeling colder than the ice he sat upon. Would this man try to claim his right once he knew he had a daughter? Could Marcus let him?
A guard troll eyed Marcus curiously from a distance. He had to control his emotions. He had to make them think he was under the spell of the devilish brew they had been giving Brian all these years.
With half-lidded eyes Marcus let his head loll to one side, his gaze roving stealthily around the cave. Now more than ever he had to find a way out. He had planned to wait to see if the troll who whispered to him was truly an ally but there was no time for that now. Brian McKenna was the catalyst he needed to make his move.
Brian caught him looking around and struggled to form words that he hadn’t spoken in years. “No escape,” he said, hopelessness in his hoarse tone.
“What?”
“Not get out.” Brian said fighting with all his resolve to push the words out as he pointed to himself. “I try many times in beginning time. No good. They will hurt you if you try.” He nodded slightly toward the now disinterested troll guard.
Marcus, looked at him.
The man has lost his will. The trolls have beaten him,
Marcus thought. It was perfect, if Brian didn’t leave the ice caves, then he could make no claims on Amber.
But just as suddenly, another thought hit him. What about Amber, how could he face her if she found out that he had left her true father here to die? No, if he could find a way out, Brian McKenna would have to come with him.
The troll guard came up and poked them with his staff. “Enough! Sleep now upworlders, there is more work to be done in a few hours,” he growled before walking away, laughing.
The two men shuffled to a corner of the cave and huddled together creating a circle of warmth. “Brian, we have to get out of here but before we do, we have to find whatever it is they want and take it with us,” Marcus whispered.
Brian stared at him and smirked. “For all the years I am here, they look. The trolls, always looking but they never find. I know they never will find it.” The smile that slowly grew on his face was one of triumphant assurance. “Many years ago, I find. I keep it for me.”
Marcus felt his heart rate elevating to an almost painful rate. Could it be possible. Could Brian McKenna have found the Sword of Shadows?
* * * * *
Back at the fairy ring, David paced, his eyes periodically scanning the hillside for any sign of intruders. He glanced at his watch then let out an exasperated breath. Time didn’t have the same meaning inside the ring, even he knew that. It seemed like Amber had been gone from him for days instead of moments. “Abracadabra! — Open sesame!” He yelled at the ground. “Yeah, like it would be that easy,” he muttered sullenly.
A distant roll of thunder made him look up at the sky. Dark clouds swelled and shifted across the horizon. The growing wind seemed to mold the billows into grotesque figures that looked like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, their progress across the sky in the growing wind enveloping the light.
Suddenly the air around him began to swirl as an eddy of whirling dirt appeared about fifty meters to his right. David took cover behind a heavy brush line as the dirt devil approached. It stopped in front of him and his eyes narrowed as he watched the air shimmer and then begin to settle. His mouth set in a grim, angry line as he saw a troll dressed in heavy brown leather garments with a rusty, curved blade hanging from his side emerge from the windstorm.
The misshapen gnome looked around and sniffed the air. David held his breath and settled himself more deeply into the underbrush. He dared not move for fear the troll would sense him.
After what seemed like an eternity to David, the troll seemed satisfied that he was alone and grunted before scratching himself. He then approached the ring and, raising his hands, looked at the sky and waited for another roll of thunder. David could see his mouth moving but the thunder was louder and he couldn’t hear a single word.
Suddenly, the ground shook, knocking David backward. When he righted himself, he saw specs of fairy dust in a long shimmering light extending upward from the ring.
Watching with horror, David saw the troll step in the light shaft and disappear.
“A troll in the fairy ring!” he exclaimed, with a sharp intake of breath as though someone had punched him squarely in the stomach. “The plane has been breached. It has begun.”
In an instant, he was on his feet and ran for the shimmering light. Almost blinded by the brilliance but undaunted David stepped inside. Like a circle closing in onto itself the entranceway closed with a small whoosh. Dazzling colors surrounded him as he felt himself falling and tiny jolts of what he could only describe as electric shocks painfully pierced his body.
He landed with a thud on his back in a field. Momentarily stunned by the fall, he turned his head to the right and caught sight of the troll running toward a distant hill. Shaking his head to clear it, he rose and sprinted to the cover of a tangle of large shrubs and honeysuckle bushes. Careful to stay concealed, he quickly made his way in the direction the troll had taken.
Several times, he had to stop and hide behind bramble bushes as whole lines of young fairies flew by him. He had reached a large flower patch where he saw several chubby fairylings playing some sort of game jumping from flower to flower. What appeared to be caretakers watched them with their hands folded into tubular sleeves.
He was almost tempted to risk making his presence known, so that he could continue on behind the troll but knew that the sight of a human in Everwood without a guide would cause panic. He would have to wait.
* * * * *
Roswyn flew as fast as she could toward the Chickle-Cherry field in the western wood. High over the trees, then down low among the hedges and bushes, through the bulrushes and reeds she rushed until finally she could see the grassland.
At the edge of the field she slowed, her wings flapping slowly. Something was wrong. Land that had once been rich with the delicious aroma of the special fruit with rainbow leaves and tender stalks, was now a mass of rotting pulp. Flying closer, she settled lightly atop a dirt mound barely a step in the first meadow. The stench from the ruined field hit her like a rock being thrown from a sling.
Not a single berry seemed to have survived whatever had ruined the harvest. If even one had the twinkle in its center, it would be visible to her. Roswyn’s wings drooped as her heart filled with sadness.
What happened,
she wondered?
Suddenly a rumbling shook the rock on which she stood and she glanced up. A dark cloud twisting and whirling like smoke from a huge black stack rolled slowly toward her. The blue sky began to disappear as the murkiness ate away the sunshine.
Roswyn felt her heartbeat rise. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. She had to tell Teezal. She turned away to take flight but found two strong arms ending in gnarled, hairy fingers holding her.
Gasping in fright, the young fairy’s gaze followed the burly limbs to the snarling face of a troll. His mouth curled into a crooked smile and drool slid down his distended lips.
“A fairy girl. A delicious little fairy morsel. No need to hurry away, my little luscious.”
A scream welled inside her just as strong fingers closed around her throat halting any sound she tried to make. As his fingers closed tighter, darkness began to lower its curtain over her. The last thing that she saw was his repulsive face coming closer to hers.
David slowly stood up from inside his cover of brambles and looked around, the troll was nowhere in sight. “Damn!” he muttered. He circled around and dropped to one knee. He could see the faint depression of large distorted footprints continuing straight ahead. Maybe he could still catch the intruder.
After running through a high field of fragrant lavender, he emerged from a tangled thicket and was almost knocked to his knees when the odor of rotting fruit hit his nostrils full force. He pressed the back of his wrist against his nose, hoping to filter out the stench and looked around. He stood on the edge of a field of dead fruit that seemed to stretch for more than a half mile. Carefully scanning the area, he could not see anything but rotting, dripping berries. The troll was nowhere in sight.
Suddenly, David felt something grab his ankle. Readying for a fight he pulled away and looked down. “Oh my God!” he said in reaction to the sight of a small fairy girl lying at his feet.
Blood covered her tunic and more ran down her delicate face from the large cut on her forehead. Her iridescent wings seemed more shredded than torn as though someone or something had clawed them apart. When she looked up at him, her gray-blue eyes begged for help.
David knelt down and cradled her head. “Don’t move,” he said gently. She opened her mouth to speak but he rocked her back and forth to quiet her. “Shh. Don’t try to speak. I won’t hurt you.” He felt her body shake and heard her sharp intake of breath. In the next instant he saw her eyes roll back and felt her body go limp in his arms.