The three followed the winding path through the thick forest for what seemed like two or three miles before they reached a river and a stone arched bridge. The ponies broke from a walk to a trot as they reached the crest of the bridge, and Elena sensed that they might be nearing the end of their journey.
“There!” Emer said, pointing toward a grove of massive oaks. “Not far now.”
The woodland path became wider. It wound through a field of miniature sunflowers that stretched to the right and left as far as the eye could see. Elena cried out with pleasure as she saw the bees and hummingbirds hovering over the golden blooms. Scota seemed equally delighted. She slid from her pony's back and gathered a handful of flowers, quickly weaving them into a floral crown. Shyly, she held it out to Elena.
“I don't think ⦔ Elena began.
“No, don't refuse,” Emer cautioned. “It would be an insult.” She shrugged prettily. “It's an old custom and will show the others that you are a friend.”
Scota watched with huge blue eyes. “Not all humans are so,” she said. “If Prince Orion brought you, I'm sure you mean us no harm.”
“Our history with humans has been long and bitter-sweet,” Emer explained.
“I didn't think ⦔ Elena felt tongue-tied. What to call them? Orion might say
fairies
, but it might be a joke, and so far she'd seen nothing magical about these unusual little folk. “I assumed that you were not ⦠a violent people,” she said, all in a rush to cover her embarrassment.
“It's true that our race is a peaceful one,” Emer continued. “But for thousands of years, we were persecuted and hunted by the humans, murdered in our homes, or captured and sold into slavery. Our women and young boys were used in the most shameful ways, and when the women quickened with life, they died in attempting to bring forth a half-human child.”
“Too big,” Scota said. “My own great-great-grandmother died that way. She was kidnapped and held prisoner for weeks. She finally escaped, but it was too late.”
“At least she was with her own people at the end,” Emer soothed.
“They say she knew a thousand songs and her hands moved over the harp like the wings of a bird. She died too young.” Tears welled in Scota's eyes. “Her name was Blathnat.” She mounted her pony again and the three rode on toward the towering forest.
As they neared the wood, Elena stared at the giant oaks. They were of a size and age that had once grown in Sherwood in England. The branches grew thick and twisting like great arms reaching into the sky, and when they entered the wood and the trees arched above them protectively, she felt the same sense of peace and awe that she did in an old house of worship.
“Our court is just ahead,” Scota said.
Elena didn't know what to expect. Would they live in some sort of quaint village or in a castle? It seemed impolite to ask, so she said, “Why don't you allow men here?”
Emer's chin firmed. “As we have said, we seek a happy and quiet life. What war was ever started by a woman?”
“But Brigantia, Queen Olwen, and some of the others carried bows and arrow quivers,” Elena said. “If you don't make war, do you hunt game with bows and arrows?”
“Yes, in a manner of speaking. We are not meat eaters, but this place is rich with rabbits, squirrels, deer, partridge, and wild boar.”
“To keep them in check, as nature intended, we brought predators with us,” Scota said. “Wolves, wild cats, bear, and fox. Sometimes, it's necessary to protect ourselves from them, so we have become skilled archers. But no fairy may ever take a human life or one of our own, on pain of banishment to the outer earth.”
Scota nodded. “It's in a man's nature to crave violence. Men enjoy fighting. They do it for pleasure. When we came here to this new world, there were many more women than men, because our men had fought so hard and long to drive back the humans. It had become their habit to settle all matters with force.”
Emer ducked low under a hanging branch, and Elena took care to do the same. “They had acquired many of the ideas of human males,” Emer said. “They started making rules about what women could and could not do, and they tried to take away our vote in council.”
“So before things got out of hand, we counted noses, took a vote, and decided to live apart from them,” Scota said. “It's worked out surprisingly well for us.”
“The men just went away? What about your boy children ?”
“They live with us until they reach the age of twelve, and then they go to their fathers,” Emer explained. “That's the way it's supposed to work, but time here is different. We don't age, so no child has ever had to leave his mother.”
“Not one,” Scota agreed.
“I see,” Elena said. “But how do you procreate? Without men, there can be no children.”
“Oh, we have children, aplenty,” Elena replied. “As for the pleasures of love ⦔ She shrugged again. “There are ways and ways.”
“Look!” Scota pointed out what appeared to be an enormous gilded birdcage hanging in the treetops. “There,” she said. “Our city.”
Elena looked up and saw another and another. “They're so high,” she said. “How do you get up there? Fly?”
Emer laughed. “If we could fly, we wouldn't need ponies, would we?”
CHAPTER 18
T
he golden birdcage houses were much larger than they appeared on the outside. Much later, after a climb up a dizzying, spiral staircase, Elena was shown through a series of light and airy rooms hung with gauzy draperies into a beautiful chamber that resembled a tiny Roman bathhouse.
Large faces carved in oak representing the four winds adorned the filigree walls, along with others portraying the Green Man of British folklore; Cernunnos, the Celtic deity of the hunt; and a Norn, lovely Urd of the Swans. The pool was not stone or marble, but rather fashioned of shining silver. The benches were green wicker interlaced with growing ivy, and the light was provided by dozens of shimmering firefly creatures with iridescent feathers.
Elena stared at the little beings, trying to decide if they were birds or insects. They fluttered and bounced around the room, hovering over the water, almost like dancing soap bubbles. Entranced, Elena extended her hand, and one of the living candles settled onto her finger. It weighed no more than a pinch of talcum powder. As hard as she tried, she could see no head, or feet, or wings, but the light was so bright and flashed so fast that it was impossible to get a good look. “What are they?” she asked Scota.
“Some humans call them
fairy lights
,” she answered. “Others think they are the
Tuatha De Danann
, but they're a much older race, actually an ancestor of the naiads. We know them as ⦔ She paused as if searching for the right word. “
Kysii.
In your language,
stardusti
.” Her rosy cheeks colored prettily. “Forgive me, Elena. It's so long since I spoke English.”
“You have your own language, then?” Elena asked, still admiring the exquisite kysii. “I think it likes me,” she said. A warm glow emitted from the light, a warmth that Elena found quite pleasing and made her want to smile.
“Stardusti are thinking beings, but like bees or ants, it's a collective intelligence. As you can see, they're friendly, and of course, drawn to water. We think they came here before time with the star visitors from far away, but their light is said to have healing powers.” She smiled mischievously. “And they never need batteries.”
“I can believe it.” The stardusti rose off her finger and joined the dance of its companions over the bath.
“While you're bathing, I'll see what we can do about finding you something to wear,” Scota said. Emer had left them in the entrance way, promising to join Elena later. Several more small women had followed them into the bath, all whispering and giggling and staring at Elena with open curiosity. Scota had chased them all away, telling them that their guest was shy and didn't need help in washing.
“I really don't need another bath,” Elena said, looking at the inviting tub. The water smelled like gardenias, not heavy and cloying, but light and sweet. “We swam inâ”
Scota giggled. “In the enchanted pool. I'm sure that was Orion's idea, wasn't it?” When Elena nodded, she laughed again. “And then you shared pleasures of the body, did you not?”
“Yes,” Elena admitted, feeling her cheeks grow warm.
“Nothing to be ashamed of. That's the spell of the pool. Those who bathe in it become lusty. Anyone would, fairy, human, or Atlantean. I can't say about mer folk. We've never had any of them here. They don't do well out of salt water, but they're much too self-centered to get along with fairies. I think it's because they're a young race, much like overgrown adolescents.” She sighed. “Although I hear they are fantastic lovers, at least the mermaids.”
This dream is becoming stranger and stranger
, Elena thought. “Would Orion have known that? About the
unusual
aspects of the pool?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, he would.” Scota giggled. “You know how those Atlanteans are. Very sexual beings. And your prince's talents are ⦔ She chuckled. “Legendary. In that regard.”
“Atlanteans? You said
Atlanteans
are sexual beings.”
“Among other things. Atlanteans are very advanced, much more so in some areas than my kind and certainly more so than humans, but sensuality in ingrained in them. What did you think Orion was?”
Elena looked at Scota. “You mean he's an Atlantean? As in Atlantis?”
Scota smiled and nodded, as if Elena were a prize pupil.
Elena exhaled slowly. At least she knew that she was dreaming. She'd been thinking a lot about her father lately. He was the only one who ever talked about Atlantis. Trust her to dream up a hunk of a lover and make him a fish man. She began to undress, which didn't take long, considering the state of what remained of her capris and shirt. She couldn't wait to see what her little friends would come up with for her to wear. A dress made of sunflowers? Maybe a green Robin Hood hat with a feather.
“Go ahead,” Scota said. “Don't be shy. The water's lovely.”
“This water's not enchanted, is it?”
Scota laughed. “Not for sensual purposes.”
“I think I may need that bath, after all. A dash of cold water might set things right.” She was still trying to process what Scota had said about Orion being an Atlantean and having legendary sexual prowess.
The bathing pool was a large one, considering that it was located in a tree house and built for little peopleâmore of a hot tub size. Elena walked down the steps leading into the water, and Scota gathered up her discarded clothing. The temperature wasn't cold, but soothingly warm. The water level rose to Elena's waist, but it felt so soft against her skin that she sank down and let it flow over her breasts and shoulders.
“Wait,” Scota said. “This fell out of your pocket. You wouldn't want to lose this, I know.”
Elena turned toward the little woman, and Scota dropped the heavy gold ring with the strange engravingâthe one Elena had discovered in seaweed in the bottom of the boatâinto her outstretched hand.
“It's not possible,” Elena said. “How could this be here? I left this ⦔ Where? Where had she left it? It certainly hadn't been in her capris' pocket. She couldn't think straight. But what stunned her breathless was remembering something elseâwhere she'd originally seen this ring. She'd been only a child, but the image came back to her as clear and vivid as on the day her father had shown her the detailed drawing in his leather-bound site sketchbook. In the years since his death, Elena had often thought of her father's journal and wished she had it, but it had never been seen since the day he'd vanished.
Salt tears clouded Elena's vision. She'd seen the exact likeness of this ringâa ring he claimed to have found in the lost City of Atlantis.
Â
In a circle of sacred rowan trees, before the
Seven
, the ruling council of the kingdom, Orion pleaded for sanctuary for Elena. Queen Olwen was here, wearing nothing but a crown of ivy, likewise Brigantia, Emer, and five other blessed ones that Orion could not place by name. Two had skin as black as ebony, two bore the tint of dark honey in their complexions, and the last was as green as the ivy that trailed from her brow. Orion was the only male present. He had come naked to the circle of rowan, as well. Here, no pretense was permitted; no fine garments or jewels raised one speaker above another.
“We have heard your argument,” Brigantia said. “You would leave your human lover here with us while you do battle with Melqart's army.”
“I would,” Orion said. “With your permission. I would have her safe from harm under your protection.”
“But in caring for this human, we would risk much,” Emer interjected.
“Perhaps too much,” one of the golden-hued girls, who had not spoken before, added her terse opinion.
Orion nodded. “This is neutral ground. Violence has never come to the earth's core.”
“Exactly.” Brigantia folded her arms across her chest and raised a firm chin. “And you would thrust us into conflict with the Phoenician Lord of War.”
Orion glanced at the queen, carefully keeping his features from revealing the uneasiness he felt. Here, in the rowan circle, all votes were supposed to have equal weight, but as with most royalty, that wasn't exactly the case. Some opinions were more equal than others. If Olwen favored his cause, the ballots would likely be cast in Elena's favor.
He'd not expected the fairies to refuse his request. In truth, he hadn't expected them to know about the coming war between Atlantis and Melqart. “He couldn't send his shades here,” Orion said. “They can't live in sunlight, and there's no salt water for them to swim in.”
Queen Olwen spread her delicate hands. “But the flesh eaters are not the only arrow in Melqart's quiver,” she said. “He holds the might of storm, of earthquake, and it is said that he once brought down a mighty Roman city by poison gas and ash.”
“Pompeii. But that was long ago,” Orion argued. “Melqart's powers have been weakened by time and the turning of the world.”
“Are they weaker?” An ebony beauty rose from her wicker throne.
Queen Olwen nodded. “We see you, noble Gambhira, speak your mind.”
Gambhira's huge, sloe eyes glittered as cool and hard as sapphires, and her black hair hung to her knees in ringlets. “How do we know that? How do we know he hasn't simply been sleeping? Once, long ago, our kind aided the humans in a battle against him, and Melqart prevailed. His vengeance is still talked about in the dark hours before dawn. Many of our people perished.”
“And the humans we died to defend blamed us,” the green beauty said. She was the smallest of all the women, and her voice was high and childlike. Her eyes were silver in color, and her long lashes the same rich brown as her short and curly hair.
“And you are?” Orion asked.
“She is Tailtu of the Spring,” Brigantia supplied, before introducing the others. “I assumed you knew the members of the council.”
“Ladies.” Orion inclined his head to each in turn as Brigantia said her name. “I am honored to be permitted to address you.”
“Enough of your flattery,” Brigantia said. “We have come here for one purpose.”
Tailtu brought her palms together, steepled her fingers in an attitude of deep thought, and leaned forward in her seat. “Atlantean, tell me true. It is said that this Elena that you bring to us robbed Melqart of his temple treasure, and that he has vowed to destroy her.”
Olwen stood. “What of your father, mighty Poseidon? Is it his wish that we shelter this woman from Melqart's wrath? For we owe his line of kings much. We could never have come to this place of new beginnings if not for the nobility of Atlantean kings.”
“Do you come in Poseidon's name?” Emer demanded.
Orion shook his head. “No. I don't. This is my doing.”
“Why?” Olwen asked.
“It's a matter of honor,” he said. “Elena saved my life, and I owe her.”
“So you deny that you have a more personal relationship with her?” Brigantia said.
“No.” Orion inhaled deeply. He was in deep water here, and he knew it. What he didn't know were his feelings for Elena.
Emer rose to her feet. “We know the two of you are lovers. What we desire to know is if your feelings for her are more than sexual.”
“I don't see what bearing my relationship with Elena has on my request for sanctuary for her,” he said.
“It means a good deal,” Olwen replied softly. “Do not forget that we are all female, and what is most important to a woman is not always of the same importance to one of your gender. I charge you, Orion, look into your heart and tell us. Do you love this human enough to take her as your life companion or not?”
Â
Morwena had lost all track of time. She drifted between consciousness and a deep troubled sleep that seemed to suck her down and hold her in a cold trance. She wanted to be awake, and even the fear of not being able to move didn't keep her from fighting to maintain a clear mind. Most of all, she had to keep reminding herself that Halimeda didn't want her dead. If the witch had, she would be dead already, her body disposed of, and no trace left of her passing. Her father's wife wanted something of her or something of him.
Sealing her in this tomb was mental torture, something Halimeda took joy in. Morwena would rather die than go mad as her tormentors surely were. She would survive, no matter what it took. She wouldn't give the witch the pleasure of getting the best of her.
To pass the time, Morwena went over the prayers and songs she had learned in the temple. She pictured in her mind each step of the rituals that she'd witnessed, and she savored every memory, every smell and color. These memories were as clear salt water to a scorched soul. If she could remember the words and notes of a hymn or the healing properties of different seaweeds, shellfish, and mosses, she didn't need food. Instead, she filled her starving body with wisdom, and she was satisfied.