Faerie Tale (52 page)

A noise came from the trees to the right, answered a moment later from the left. Sean stopped and had to yank on Patrick’s hand to get him to halt. The noise increased on all sides, the rustle of branches being moved and the clopping of horses’ hooves and the rattle of armor. As certainty about what he faced came to Sean, riders emerged from the trees on either side, positioning themselves so that they could easily encircle the boys.

Then from the woods poured forth a host of creatures, all twisted and misshapen, in soul if not in form. Ladies of astonishing beauty, wearing translucent white gowns that flowed to the ground, half floated, half walked from between the gnarled trees. The small creatures who had been with Patrick, little bigger than hummingbirds, sped through the air to greet Sean. The riders and horses, all magnificent in splendid armor and bardings, moved slowly to surround the twins. Squat creatures of ill aspect, their hideous features set in mocking grins of evil delight, darted between the legs of the horses. Sean wondered how so many people, even the little ones, could have hidden from him only a moment before. He felt afraid but held his ground, keeping Patrick’s hand in his own and clutching tightly to the dagger.

“This is our heritage,” said a voice from behind.

Sean jumped and spun, his heart racing as the Fool looked down upon him. The horseman had silently approached
him from the rear. Sean knew why the Quest Guide had stopped: The Shining Man had used magic to halt it, as had the Queen.

The Fool stood resplendent in his black and silver armor, holding his helm under one arm. His white stallion silently regarded Sean with glowing golden eyes. The armored figure moved his head slightly as he studied the small boy who stood before him, dagger held poised for battle. “You are a brave one, small warrior,” said the Fool, laughing. He called out, “Attend me, my children! Come! We have a guest.” He held out his helm and a boyish fairy ran forward and took it from his master.

As the approaching fairies circled him, Sean glanced around for any sign of escape. The Fool rode forward and halted his mount before the boys. He leaned down, his face hovering above Sean’s. “This was once as were the other lands through which you have passed,” said the Fool. He turned and with a wide sweep of his hand indicated the barren woods. “Between the Bright Lands and the Dark Lands, these were the Twilight Lands, where the children of the People played as we who were their masters looked on. All was in balance and all was in harmony, and the one court was at peace. I ruled, my Queen at my side. And it was good. Then came the Magi with their spells and conjurations, and a great battle was fought.” He sat upright in the saddle, pulling himself to the limit of his majestic height, and his voice was proud. “The struggle was heroic.” Then his voice quieted. “But we were vanquished, and forced to swear to the Compact.” Again leaning forward to face Sean, he said, “This is our heritage. This is the handiwork of your race, the Shadow Lands. The balance was destroyed, the harmony ended, and the powers rent asunder, so that now where the one court reigned, two are pitted in strife. My Queen no longer stands at my side. And naught is good.” Narrowing his gaze as he studied Sean, he said, “So tell me, small and brave boy, what do you think of your race’s gifts to the People?”

Sean glanced over at Patrick, who still seemed dazed. Sean swallowed hard. The Fool leaned down again and
his hand moved toward Sean tentatively. A scant half inch from his shoulder, it was snatched back. “You still wear the ward, boy.” He reached out, a seemingly impossible reach, and grabbed Patrick. “But this one does not! He will remain, boy, and so shall you.” With a laugh of madness, he added, “I shall have my brace.” Patrick hung from the Shining Man’s hand, like a kitten held by the scruff of the neck, without protest or movement.

Sean swallowed fear. Slowly, so as not to get it wrong, he said, “Amadán-na-Briona. In the name of our Lord Jesus, I command you and your court to let go my brother and don’t you follow us.” Through fear and doubt he knew he hadn’t gotten it exactly like Barney had told him to say, but he prayed to the Lady in the church that it was good enough.

The Fool threw back his head and screamed as if in pain, and the surrounding fairies stepped back, breath indrawn like some sudden gust of wind. The Fool’s stallion reared and spun about, his forelegs pawing the air and his hind legs stamping the ground, as if the animal shared his master’s rage. The Fool maintained his seat yet kept both arms outstretched, holding Patrick in one hand as if he weighed nothing. Light burned brightly about him, an aura of angry, fierce illumination. The sound of the Fool’s shriek terrified Sean and he also stepped back with a shudder, and a sob escaped his lips. Tears ran down his face at the terrible sound, but he stood fast, rejecting the urge to run. The scream filled the air, evoking memories of that tormented sound Sean had made the night the Shining Man had come and stolen Patrick. On and on it went, an impossible raw noise of rage and hate. Then it trailed off and the armored figure turned a mask of pure insanity toward Sean. The illumination around the Fool lessened as he dropped Patrick, and the boy fell heavily to the ground, where he shook his head slightly, as if trying to gather his wits, and slowly got to his feet. The black form of the Bad Thing appeared from within the press and scampered over to Patrick, holding him by the arm, awaiting his master’s bidding. The Shining Man’s expression turned from pain to rage. He
reached down and grabbed the front of Sean’s loose blouse and with a powerful lift pulled Sean toward him, despite the fact the contact with one wearing a fairy stone was clearly causing him pain. Sean emitted a tiny yelp of startled fear and lashed out with his dagger, slicing the back of the Shining Man’s hand, shouting, “Let go!”

The Fool screamed in pain and released the boy. Sean fell into the roadway, where he sat for a moment, watching the Fool. He grabbed his hand, as if struck by agony, and writhed in the saddle, the light around him again increasing. The horse pranced nervously while his master screamed. The sound continued, and the other fairies drew back another step. Then the sound diminished and the light diminished, and the Fool sat motionless atop his horse in front of Sean. Through clenched teeth, with blue eyes flashing as if with mad lightning, the Fool said, “You have my name, mortal child. I must do what you’ve willed, for the
geas
is upon me. But you’ve not yet won free. The way back is long. And you may only command me once, and that you’ve done. I’ll do as you’ve bidden, but no more!” He sat holding his wounded hand as red blood flowed freely across the back of it. He waved it three times in the air, and the wound vanished. With a mad laugh, he spun his mount around to regard his minions. “Let them go, for they’ve my word ’pon it!” The crowd of dark fairies ceased to move menacingly toward Sean, save the Bad Thing, who reached out and began pulling Patrick away by the hand.

The Fool shrieked again, in glee rather than rage and pain. He sat astride his horse, his face alight with a madness equal to that shown the night he had come to the boys’ room. His animal pawed the ground, snorting and showing the whites of his eyes. Sean hurried over to his brother’s side. The Bad Thing crouched down, backing away from Patrick, its simple intelligence in turmoil at its master’s change of orders. Sean regarded this fearsome creature, finding it smaller in stature than he had thought. Its almost glowing brown and yellow eyes blinked as they followed Sean’s movement, then it turned to regard the Shining Man, awaiting orders. A terrible
anger struck Sean—he was tired of being frightened and bossed around by these creatures. Sean shouted, “Leave us alone!” He slashed wildly at the Bad Thing and it fell away, hissing in anger and fearful of the silver dagger. The creature bared fangs, but Sean menaced it again with the dagger and the creature scampered back to crouch at the rear of his master’s horse.

Patrick seemed still in a daze, his eyes unfocused, and he showed no sign of recognition. Uncertain what to do next, Sean pulled on Patrick’s hand, as if to lead him back down the road.

Patrick followed a few feet; then the Fool’s voice sounded. “Patrick, take him!”

Sean felt his arm jerked and he spun around as Patrick planted his feet. Patrick yanked again and Sean fell. Then Patrick was atop his brother. Sean had never been able to best Patrick in a scrap. All their young lives, there had always been something holding him back, some limit on how much anger he could focus on his brother, as if to visit pain on Patrick were to visit it upon himself. Patrick had never seemed to share that inhibition, freely punishing Sean when their sibling conflicts had come to a head. Now Sean knew that to lose this struggle would be to lose more than another brotherly tussle.

With a fury new to him, he heaved Patrick aside and rolled away. Then another figure leaped into the fray, and Sean smelled decay in his face. Powerful arms grappled with him, and the sounds of shrieking told him that the owner of those hands paid the price for touching him, as the magic of the fairy stone caused the Bad Thing torment. Sean didn’t hesitate. Blindly, wildly, he lashed out with his dagger and felt the point dig in. The Bad Thing howled in pain and fled, leaving the half-dazed Sean sitting on the white road.

Sean could hear the roar of the Fool’s anger echoing through the murky woods and the shrieking of the Bad Thing as it fled through the trees, but he could see only Patrick as his brother again hurled himself atop Sean. Sean felt the jar in his shirt shatter and felt water drench his side. The holy water! He had forgotten to release Pat
rick from the Fool’s control and now the water was spilled.

Frantic, his terror at losing Patrick giving him a near-hysterical strength, Sean shoved his brother aside and gripped the side of his shirt with his left hand, drenching it with water. He let Patrick leap at him again, and reached out with his wet hand. Smearing Patrick’s face with the water, he clumsily made the sign of the cross and half grunted, “In the name of our Lord, you are free!”

Patrick rocked forward, as if struck from behind by a brick. His eyes blinked and seemed to focus for the first time. He looked at his brother and then around. His eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe what he saw, but before he could speak, Sean was up and yanking Patrick to his feet. Shaking in terror, Sean gulped back his fear and shouted at the Shining Man, “You broke your word!” He half expected something bad to happen, but the Fool only sat regarding the boys with a baleful gaze.

“That simple one,” he said, pointing after the fleeing Bad Thing, “defied my order. And he”—he pointed at Patrick—“was no member yet of my court. I have done as you have bidden.”

Sean knew somehow he had not done as well as he could have, but he was unable to contain himself any longer. Patrick stood beside him, his eyes boggling at what he saw, and he appeared on the edge of fainting. Sean grabbed his brother’s hand, yanking him around. “Come on!”

Patrick let himself be turned and pulled, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the assembled host of fairies. Sean turned to face the fairies, who sat motionless, watching the twins.

Suddenly the Fool shrieked, a high, almost feminine, ear-shattering screech. Pain took voice and he spun his mount in a full circle and raised his fist toward the heavens. Again he spun his horse, with hand outstretched as he waved in anger, shrieking, “Go! Begone! All of you!”

The dark fairies fled back to the woods, retreating in the face of their master’s anger. As quickly as they had
come they had gone, and the boys stood alone on the road with the Fool. He moved a menacing step toward them, and Sean and Patrick bolted.

Young feet pounded the stones as the twins raced along the path through the trees, the Quest Guide speeding along with them. Each step they flew carried them closer to safe haven, away from terrors so overpowering they had been given form and substance: the Fool.

Patrick shouted, “What’s going on! Where are we?” He seemed to be waking from a dream.

“Just keep running!” answered Sean. Both continued silent in their flight, and kept eyes fixed forward, as if to look back would be to surrender what had been so difficult to win. Each moment was another test, another risk, another trap to prevent their escape.

Then, after a timeless flight, they could see the back of the strange house that seemed to mark the boundary between the land of the Queen and the land where Sean had met the Fool. Only a few gnarled trees stood between the boys and that boundary.

A few yards from the rear door of the house, the boys slowed. Patrick said, “What’s going on?”

Sean pointed backward. “That guy, the Shining Man, he took you from home. You’ve been here for more than a week.”

“I don’t remember!” said Patrick, obviously disturbed. “Where are we?”

“Barney said it’s the Good People’s land. I don’t know what it’s called. I didn’t ask.”

“How do we get back?”

Sean pointed. “Through this place, then down a white road, to where this Queen lady is going to help us. Then out a cave to where Barney’s waiting.”

“Why does that guy want to hurt us?” asked Patrick.

“I don’t know. Maybe Barney can tell us.” Then he considered. “He said humans made that sad place, you know, where all the trees are ugly. Maybe he’s just mad at all of us.”

Patrick was usually the leader in any undertaking the boys embarked upon, but under these bizarre circum
stances he was more than willing to follow Sean’s lead. Waking up in the middle of a fight with his brother, with all those weird things standing around, was too much even for his sense of adventure. He reached up and felt the garlands in his hair. “What’s this junk?” Patrick asked, pulling the leaves and black blooms from his curls.

Then a figure dropped from the trees, landing with shocking force upon Sean’s back. Patrick yelled in surprise and leaped away.

Sean rolled over on his back, the thing holding tight to him. He didn’t need to see his assailant to know the Bad Thing had moved through the trees ahead of him, attempting to intercept him before leaving the Shadow Lands. The Bad Thing hooted in pain as it struggled to restrain Sean, obviously tormented by contact with one wearing a ward. Taloned black hands tore at Sean’s blouse as the creature attempted to rip the fairy stone from around Sean’s neck.