Faerie Tale (50 page)

The boy backed away from the bank, feeling discomfited rather than frightened, visited by the same odd feeling in his stomach as when he looked at the Queen. His boyish body wasn’t ready to deal with the drives of adults, and the only effect her seductive beauty had upon him was disquiet and confusion. The boy noticed the progress of the Quest Guide and ran after the light, feeling relief to be away from the beautiful fish-woman. Even the water here was alien. He shivered slightly as he remembered Barney’s warnings not to leave the road.

The light was a hundred yards down the path and it took Sean only a minute to catch up with the meandering globe. Forcing himself to calmness, the little boy fell into step behind his guide and continued on.

Sean saw the woods opening up around him. Since leaving the stream’s bank, he had entered thickening woods, of dark aspect. Unlike the other woods he had passed through, these held a note of menace, and he had clutched his silver dagger tightly. The path moved straight through the trees and intersected another path, one of dark stone. Sean paused a moment, for the dark path emerged from a cave. Through the cave he could see rain. It was another way home! He remembered the lady had said he had two paths to choose, and he should take the white one. But this one would quickly take him back to his own home, without the seemingly interminable walk back to the sunny hill through which he had emerged into this place.

He sighed and followed after the Quest Guide. The ball was nearly out of sight between the trees as he began to move again, and for an instant the boy was fearful he had let it escape, but after a short sprint he found the ball ambling along at steady pace. The woods seemed to be growing more dense as they moved deeper into them, more menacing in appearance. The trees seemed taller and the boles more tightly packed. Soon it felt as if he were walking in another tunnel. Fighting off the urge to turn and run to the cave back to home, he walked resolutely after the glowing light.

The boy and his guide rounded another curve and Sean discovered that the road passed before as strange a house as he had seen. It stood between four huge trees, of what kind Sean didn’t know, maybe giant oaks. As he got closer he saw the trees stood as corners of the house, the walls stretching between them. Inviting yellow light shone through the windows, merry and warm against the gloom of the woods. The Quest Guide hesitated before the entrance, bobbing and weaving in a circle. Sean came up beside it and then looked at the door of the house. After a minute he said, “Is Patrick in there?”

The guide bobbed from side to side, and Sean wished the thing could speak or somehow communicate with him. Then a thought struck the boy, as he remembered how it had answered his first question back on the sunlit hill. “Are you asking me if I want to go in?”

The ball bounced up and down vigorously. The thing could answer yes or no! Sean said, “Should I go in?” The ball wobbled a little. “You don’t know?”

The ball bounced up and down again. “Will it help me find Patrick if I go there?” Again the indecisive wobble. Sean was then struck by something Barney had told him. “Is it dangerous in there?”

The ball bobbed up and down again. Sean said, “Let’s go. Take me to Patrick.”

The ball hesitated, moving in circles. Sean understood then. “It’s a shortcut!” The ball bounced up and down. “Will it save a lot of time?” Again the up-and-down mo
tion. Sean swallowed hard and said, “Then we’ll go this way.”

The ball of light moved toward the door of the great wooden house and the door opened without being touched. Sean gripped his dagger and followed after.

Sean stood a moment in awe. The house was a single room. But such a room! The floors were polished wood of grains so deep and rich they seemed a flowing river of dark and light lines. The boles of the mighty trees that formed the corners of the room had been carved, the columns describing people, and other creatures, in every conceivable undertaking. Sean let his eyes follow the bas-relief and saw every event in life: birth, death, lovemaking, warfare, discovery, healing, acts heroic and craven, pastimes mundane and extraordinary. He didn’t know how he understood what the carvings represented, he just knew what each signified and he was sure of that knowledge. The ball moved slowly through the vast room, as if fearful of making noise.

The walls of the building were white, golden-veined marble, which struck Sean as odd considering that, outside, the building had looked like nothing so much as some giant wooden cabin. His eyes were enormous in silent wonder as he moved after the ball. There were six doors in the room, the one through which he had entered, another opposite at the far end of the hall, and two on each side. The side doors were of even size, but each had its own unique design. He reached the first pair and halted in fear as they both suddenly swung open.

Sean halted, his heart pounding, as he glanced from right to left, taking in what he saw through the portals. He knew that if that door opened through the wall, a forest of vast size would be revealed. But instead he saw a light woodland, greeting his eyes with a riot of every hue
as trees splendid in their magnificent autumn colors stretched off into the distance. A crisp, nutty woods scent greeted the boy’s nostrils as he looked into the beautiful vista, while a tiny red squirrel chattered a scolding at a thieving jaybird over a purloined hickory nut. Into Sean’s view came a man and woman, each with grey hair but otherwise erect in their bearing. They wore fashionable clothing, the woman a tweed skirt and jacket and walking shoes, and the man a corduroy coat over a turtleneck sweater. Both carried walking sticks, which seemed more for effect than infirmity. The man halted and tipped a jaunty little cap at Sean, while the woman smiled and motioned for the boy to approach.

Sean knew he should move on, but the desire to go see what these two nice people wanted was overwhelming. He began to take a step when a bird’s chirp caused him to spin and look behind. Through the opposite door he saw a lovely meadow, mantled in deep, almost emerald, green. Flowers speckled the hillsides and fruit trees were in full bloom, their white blossoms playing host to a thousand nectar-gathering honeybees. A robin in a branch near the door was in full song. Sean sighed. He didn’t know what this place was, and he was frightened of it. He moved toward the far door where the Quest Guide patiently waited. A red ball bounced into Sean’s field of vision and two children, a boy and girl, scampered after it. Both wore simple tunics, straight white cloth cut above the knees, and sandals. They each grabbed the ball at once, and a struggle ensued. As the tugging began to approach conflict, the girl, almost perfect in her childish beauty, saw Sean through the door. She let go of the ball and pointed at him. The boy was dark of hair and eyes, but as fair in features as the girl. He regarded Sean with something akin to distrust, but the girl smiled and waved and beckoned for Sean to come play with them. Sean felt a sudden desire to abandon his journey and go play. The two children seemed to be having such a wonderful time.

A step toward the door and suddenly Sean felt another tugging. He glanced back and saw that the man and
woman had come to the edge of the door and were waving vigorously at Sean to come to them. The boy felt pulled in that direction, and his heartbeat increased. Something magic was happening, he thought. He knew that he must not give in to these odd urges to visit with these people, but must go find Patrick. The thought of his brother seemed to aid him in turning toward the far door and moving away from the four figures waving for him to join them.

Moving slowly along, he passed between the next pair of doors, and they opened. Sean regarded the right door. Through it he saw an impossibly lovely winterscape. Through the cold air pouring out of the door he heard the sound of laughter. A very old man and woman entered the scene, obviously enjoying something funny one of them had just said. Hair as white as the surrounding snow peeked out from under heavy fur hats, like ones Sean had seen on Russians in the news on TV. They spoke in a language Sean couldn’t understand. They moved past his vantage point without hesitation, Sean’s presence unacknowledged, until, just as they were leaving his view, the man caught sight of him. At once he began motioning for Sean to come to them, speaking quickly in the odd language.

Sean backed away, fighting the urge to join the elderly couple. He turned and regarded the opposite portal. Through it he could see a beach scene, and his heart ached. It looked like where his folks used to take him and Patrick back in California, up near Point Dume and Zuma Beach. Then a young man and woman dashed through the surf. The woman was as bare-chested as the man; each wore an identical skimpy black thong loincloth that barely covered anything. As they playfully splashed each other, their cries of delight were carried away over the sound of the breakers by a warm summer’s breeze. The scent of salt spray and the feel of summer heat washed over Sean and he cried silent tears of longing as a sea gull’s squawk came faintly through the portal. He wanted to be back in California with his friends, not lost in some terrible place looking for Patrick. Then the
young couple were embracing, and again laughing, as the young man pulled the woman to the sand. He kissed her as he rolled over on top of her, and then he looked up, seeing Sean. With a dazzling smile of white teeth against his tan face, the young man shouted out in friendly greeting. The girl rolled over as the young man pushed up, coming to his feet. She stayed on the ground, smiling and waving. Sean felt a hot rush of panic at his urge to go to this place, the most familiar of all four views. Swallowing hard, and focusing his mind on Patrick, he turned toward the far door and made himself take a step. Slowly he made his way to the far door, and when he had a hand upon the handle, he said to the guide, “Is this the Hall of Ancient Seasons?”

The guide bounced up and down and Sean looked back at the scenes visible through the doors. “I’d be in trouble if I went through those doors, huh?”

The guide’s agreement was vigorous, as it spun faster on its axis and bobbed up and down. Sean wondered what would happen if he chanced through those side doors. Probably he’d be trapped somewhere, unable to get home. He pushed aside his curiosity and considered the door. Unlike the front door, this one hadn’t opened at their approach. Sean opened it by depressing the large latch and it swung open toward them, ponderously.

Sean stood motionless for a moment, and even the Quest Guide seemed to hesitate before it plunged into the dark and foreboding woods behind the building. Sean took a deep breath and gingerly stepped out upon a black path, and followed the golden light into despair.

The woods were now something fashioned from hopeless dreams, vaulted dark trees so close together their twisted branches seemed woven brown lines inscribed on a black tent, a batik canopy of woeful aspect raised high over
head. There was a sense of ages here; Sean glanced fearfully from side to side, as if something might leap out at him at any turn. The trees’ bark was deeply etched, ravaged by time, looking like the leathery faces of ancient men, men who had been tormented for aeons. An echoing wind blew, and the swaying branches seemed to reach toward him, as if threatening … or pleading.

Sean walked on, remembering the terror of the night Patrick was taken and his own fear. He knew that had it not been for Barney’s fairy stone, he would be a captive along with Patrick. And when the Shining Man had come for them, Sean had been reduced to something less than human, an animal, a thing cringing in fear. Nothing he saw now could match that hopelessness, that surrender of all sense of survival. His youthful mind wrestled with the reality of injured pride and a thirst for revenge and, finding them far different from what he had watched on Saturday morning television, failed to recognize them. But he felt those drives nevertheless, and he knew that once he faced the Shining Man he would act, despite his terror at the prospect. He didn’t reflect on this; he accepted it. Without Patrick, a piece was missing within himself, as that special bond between them—the one that allowed them to share the odd thought, sense how the other felt, know where the other was—that bond had been severed. Without Patrick, Sean was less than before. Fate had given him a chance to redeem his brother, and nothing short of death would stop him.

The fluting, haunting sound of the wind was torn by the sound of hoofbeats rapidly approaching. The sky darkened ominously, as if night advanced before the nearing horseman. Sean stood, uncertain of his best course of action, to hide, to flee, or to stand. He chose the first alternative and raced to overtake the light. He reached for it and found it solid at the core, an orb the size of a baseball. He snatched it and scampered into the thicket by the roadside, crouching behind a fallen log, and peeked through the tall wild grass, while he hid the light of the Quest Guide beneath his body.

A horseman raced along the road, a figure of night
mare. A glowing white horse stretched out, seeming to fly as long legs moved in fluid rhythm. A fiery mane and tail blew behind as the rider spurred his mount along. The rider was dressed all in black and silver, armor and helm, cape and tunic. His ebon cloak trailed behind like some giant sail blown out and flapping in a gale. His head was held high, as if he was seeking, for black eye slits in the antler-bedecked silver helmet seemed to peer into the woods as he raced along.

Perched upon his stirrup, clutching his master’s boot, was the Bad Thing, his evil, shrill laughter cutting through the drumming of the horse’s hooves. It seemed to be enjoying its precarious ride. In the space between two terror-stricken heartbeats, the rider was past.

Sean paused a long minute to allow his heart to slow, then he remembered the guide. He moved off it and saw a dull grey orb of metal, now heavy and motionless. He looked at it in despair, for how was he to find Patrick without the guide? He felt tears coming to his eyes as he whispered, “Please. Don’t die. Help me find Patrick!”

He repeated the words Barney had taught him, but the orb lay still. At last he had resigned himself to wandering, when a faint, friendly laugh sounded from above. Sean rolled over, scrambling backward as he brandished his silver dagger.