Faerie Tale (51 page)

A boy of fourteen or fifteen dropped casually from the trees, his pale blue eyes fastened on Sean. He seemed unmindful of the dagger, but Sean kept its point leveled at the youth. Then he recognized the boy from his description. “You’re the guy who hurt Gabbie!”

The youth shook his head with a grin, and like a cat was suddenly moving. Faster than Sean could react the boy knelt before him, reached out, and seized his wrist, immobilizing Sean’s arm. “If I intended you harm, Sean Hastings, ’twould be easy enough a feat. But the fact I can touch you, despite your ward, proves more than words my good intentions.” Releasing the boy’s hand, the youth continued. “I am not the one who troubled your sister.”

Sean scooted back fearfully. The fact the stranger
could have hurt him but didn’t wasn’t all that reassuring. “You look like him,” he said, mustering his bravery.

With a sigh, the youth said, “With our race, looks are an issue of whim.” He shimmered an instant, with a blue-white light much like the nimbus that had shrouded the Shining Man the night he had come for the boys, then he shifted in form, a dark outline in brilliance, and the glow vanished. The transformation had been only a second or so in duration. Where the youth had been knelt a man, older than the youth, but still young. He wore a funny hat with a broad brim, a beard, and simple trousers, shirt, and sturdy work boots. With a voice now deep and mature, he seized Sean under the arms before the boy could protest and lifted him. “You see what we wish you t’see, you of mortal blood. ’Tis our will that lends us shape. And in this guise could I have taken your sister had I wished.” He smiled in remembrance and said, “That one is among the fairest of your race I’ve beheld in years, but though she would have opened her legs t’me willingly and with joy, I’d not be the one to break the Compact.” He released Sean and again the glow surrounded him, and suddenly a little boy, no more than six or seven years from his appearance stood before Sean.

“Come you near or go you far,
light from candle or flick’ring star?
See what you will, or so you think,
but is water sweet before you drink?
Who can know of truth and lies?
When can a man believe his eyes?
Suspect what’s known to mortal senses,
for our nature vaults all mystic fences,
that stand between that which is and seems,
and back we are to truth … or dreams.”

He spoke in an impish, childish, singsong voice. He glowed, and once again the youth stood there. “That is the secret of our power, for what you see you believe, and arms and armor, food and drink, all are real to those who accept them as such. Illusion is powerful when viewed as
truth. Why, had you the will to believe, you could live forever from the very life abounding in the air! You wear the green stain upon your eyes and can therefore see through the illusion, not because the stain has power, but because you believe it does.” He laughed, and Sean felt something hot run down his back at the sound. “And you will remember.

“No, I troubled your fair sister not, lad. Another sought to cause harm, as he has before and will again if allowed, and upon me cast the blame. It was a small revenge upon me for a past deed, a harmless prank that still nettles him.”

Sean got up, wanting to be away from this disturbing boy. “I’ve got to find my brother.” He said it as a challenge, as if defying the youth to stop him.

The youth laughed, a ringing, lighthearted peal. “And I’ll not halt your search, Sean.” Looking down the road, as if expecting the rider to reappear, he said, “That one has caused much trouble over the ages, despite the Compact, but this time more than the Queen will tolerate.…” He laughed, as if finding that prospect amusing. Then his tone turned serious. “But beyond the boundaries of the Bright Lands, he is as powerful as she. Find your brother, while the Fool is abroad, then run to the Queen’s court by way of the white path. Should that one overtake you, fight as best you can. Some will aid you, though none of us—not even myself—can match the Fool in power. Only the Queen is his equal.” The youth laughed again, as if all this were but a game. “Still, some of us who are less than the Fool are still more than most.” He reached out and took up the lifeless orb and blew upon it. At once a hot spot appeared upon the side where he blew and blossomed into a glow. With a flick of his hand and spin of the wrist, he tossed the ball, twirling, high into the air and the glow burst into brilliance around the orb. “Revive, little spirit of light, guide on this one’s quest; take him where his heart desires. Find he who is as this one in body with a spirit of another, two from the same womb. Go!”

The Quest Guide spun around a point above Sean’s
head, then shot back to the road, where it commenced its wandering from side to side as it danced down the road, but faster than before, as if the youth’s instructions had given it impetus. Sean ran after, catching up as the orb spun around a bend in the roadway. He looked back over his shoulder to shout thanks to the youth, but no sign that anyone had been by the road remained. Sean shivered, again forcing aside fear as he resumed his search for Patrick.

The twisted, barren landscape seemed to last for miles. Sean had long since lost track of time on the path, simply resigning himself to plodding along behind the glowing Quest Guide. He felt as if he had been moving through this desolate place for ages.

Then they crested a rise, and through the twisted trees they saw another strange house. It faced against a mound, or rather it was part of the mound, for only one wall could be seen. It appeared someone had fashioned a wall over a cave or excavation in the side of the hillock, and voices could be heard coming through the open door. Sean couldn’t understand the language, for it consisted mostly of grunts and bellows, shrieks and mad laughs—accompanied by the sounds of crockery breaking and objects of some weight slamming into walls—and he had no wish to meet the authors of that riotous conversation, so he hurried past.

Sean moved rapidly enough that he passed the Quest Guide slightly and had to wait until it caught up with him. While he stood waiting, he noticed a strange property of the roadway. By turning his head, he saw it shift back and forth between white and black, reminding him of the illusion given by those “moving” charms given away in breakfast cereal boxes from time to time. To Sean
it was clear that both the black path and the white path ran along here.

Sean followed the road down into a dell and up the other side and was abruptly confronted by a change in the landscape. Before him rose a massive forest of dark trees, and the sky above shifted rapidly from grey to black. He knew without being told that he was leaving what the Queen had called the Shadow Lands and was entering the Dark Lands.

Sean halted, daunted by what he saw. While the Shadow Lands had seemed a haunted, sad country, these Dark Lands were a place of magnificent unworldly beauty. Delicate and alien trees swayed in a soft summer night’s breeze, and in their branches night birds trilled haunting, poignant songs. Each tree had leaves of deep green and some sprouted blooms, but there was no light in the sky. Instead, the light came from the boles, the leaves, the blooms, the grasses, even the bare ground. It was a landscape of impossible phosphorescent glows, no single source of illumination providing shadows. The scent of night-blooming flowers hung in the air and crickets chirped in counterpoint to the birds’ songs. This was no brooding, evil place where mad spirits harbored their black hates against mankind. These were magic woods, fairy woods, woods of enchantment and wonder. Their beauty was nearly overpowering, yet there was nothing to fear in these soft, dark woodlands. Rather, Sean felt as if he moved through the world’s most perfect and excellent woods at night. And there were colors, but alien and unexpected. Everything looked like a faint black-light painting, with subtle hues on the flowers and leaves, but everything was alive, everything was in harmony, not twisted and corrupted as in the Shadow Lands. This was the fairy land he had expected in his heart!

Sean noticed the Quest Guide seemed to be glowing fainter; as if needing less light to be seen, it produced less light than in the Bright Lands or Shadow Lands. But otherwise the object seemed content to move along in its merry side-to-side pattern, seemingly unconcerned by its location. Given its agitated response to Sean’s request to
find the Fool, the boy found this a reassuring sign. Sean silently hoped the Shining Man and the Bad Thing were still riding through the Shadow Lands and not coming back this way soon. More than anything, the boy prayed he could find Patrick and make good his escape without having to confront the Shining Man. He felt somehow that that would prove unlikely, but the thought gave him a more optimistic frame of mind.

The Quest Guide seemed to pick up speed, and Sean matched the quickening pace. He took it as a sign they were nearing their destination, or some danger was overtaking them, so his heart rate increased and he became again alert, all fatigue washed away.

Through the thick boles they passed, the pathway narrowing so much in places the boy wondered how the Shining Man’s horse managed to get through. Then suddenly they were before another fairy hill, except this one seemed bigger than the Queen’s hill, with the low-hanging branches nearly forming a black canopy above the summit. It appeared deserted, or at least Sean couldn’t see anyone.

The guide swung off the path and moved up the hillside and Sean followed, his short legs pumping as he climbed. At the crest he found a pavilion, all black silks and cushions, and within the pavilion he found Patrick.

Patrick lay amid the pile of cushions, in a deep sleep. Sean looked down upon his brother and felt his heart leap. In just the few days he had been held captive, Patrick had begun to change. He wore no clothing, save a small loincloth fashioned of leaves, and black-blossom garlands and leaves of the darkest green had been woven into his hair. His lips had been rouged to a deep red, and his eyelids painted with something that gave them a pearly sheen, as had his nails. About him tiny creatures lay sleeping and none seemed disturbed by Sean’s approach. Sean stared at them, for he was confronted for the first time with fairies who matched his boyhood expectation. Tiny sprites and pixies nestled against Patrick; each was human in appearance and nude, with delicate wings gracing their backs. But also slumbering around
Patrick were creatures of less wholesome appearance, toadlike creatures and furry things of deformed aspect. Sean averted his eyes from these, as if to stare might wake them from their deep slumber.

Around the pavilion night insects buzzed, softly glowing fireflies that graced the black canopy with tiny spots of warm blue-green illumination. Haunting songs came through the evernight, as alien birds warbled their secrets. The night breeze was soft, even sensuous, in its caress and Sean felt like crying from the beauty of the place. Then upon the breeze he smelled the soft scent of wildflowers and spices, but from blooms and seasonings never seen on earth. Their musky odor set Sean’s heart to beating, and he knew that whatever was done in this bed, under this bower, if continued, would twist and change Patrick. He must get his brother away at once.

He tiptoed into the pavilion and reached down to wake Patrick. Patrick stirred heavily, as if drugged, and Sean had to shake him several times. At last his eyes opened, then widened as he perceived his twin above him. Sean made a motion for silence, and Patrick nodded, though his movement was sluggish. He had to gently move a tiny woman-creature who lay nestled against his chest to stand. The boys waited a long moment, but the pixielike creatures were deep in slumber, oblivious to Sean and Patrick’s movements. Sean took Patrick’s hand and pulled him away from the pavilion. Patrick moved sluggishly, but managed not to step on any of the sleeping sprites.

Outside, Sean took a deep breath and looked at his brother. Patrick kept blinking, as if trying to clear his vision, and he shook his head. His eyelids appeared heavy and his jaw slightly slack, as if he had to fight to keep awake.

Sean half dragged, half led Patrick down to the base of the hill. “Come on,” he whispered at the bottom, “we’ve got to get away.”

Patrick nodded, still disoriented, and Sean remembered what Barney had said about being asleep in this place. Patrick might have been asleep the entire time
since the Shining Man had taken him! Even now, he was half-asleep; perhaps he thought this was a dream. He might not have any idea of where they were or what their predicament was. Sean would have to take charge and simply trust his brother to follow without question until they were safe.

The Quest Guide followed the twins down the hill. Sean had half expected it to vanish or go away once Patrick was found, but now he said, “Will you show us the way back?”

The Quest Guide bounced up and down and began to take them back the way Sean had come. The glowing orb’s presence somehow buoyed Sean’s spirits, and for the first time he actually hoped he could get his brother away from this place without encountering the Shining Man. He knew that if they could get out of the hill and stay free of the Shining Man until after midnight, the Good People would go away and they’d all be safe. Sean said softly, “Please, God, let us get home all right.”

Patrick stumbled along behind his brother, allowing himself to be pulled along by the hand, his eyes still unfocused and his expression a dreamy, faraway one. He said nothing as Sean led him back down the path to home.

Sean and Patrick waited. Something had caused the Quest Guide to halt its carefree movement back and forth across the road. It hung poised in midair, rotating upon its axis, as if considering which way to move. They had been back in the Shadow Lands for some time—to Sean it seemed hours, though it could have been but minutes. The woods were dark and forlorn, a place of desperation, the perfect environs for things fashioned of evil dreams and dark purposes. Trees with grey leaves and twisted black branches that never bore fruit nor bloom, ebony
wood boles that lived forever in the greyest autumn, seemed trapped by the roadside, silently pleading for rescue. A bitter wind blew across Sean’s face, stinging his nostrils with the faint memory of smoke and decay. He turned to Patrick and found his brother’s eyes distant, as if his mind were far away. Patrick had been unusually quiet since being rescued. Sean had to repeat himself to get any sort of answer, and then it tended to the short and distracted, Patrick’s manner preoccupied. Sean counted it the result of Patrick’s captivity and after a while gave up on conversation, fatigue and fear making silence the easier. Sean began to walk, taking his brother by the hand. Patrick hesitated, then followed a step behind.