REALM'S END (BOOK OF FEY 1) (5 page)

     Hectain had finally dared to stare at Meredith and when she did she could not turn her eyes away. Unable to stop herself, though she knew her father would probably punish her, she spoke. “Sister, I do not believe there is ash in your hair at all.”

    Meredith walked over to a worn silver plate that lay unharmed on the floor. She picked up the plate and turned it so the firelight fell upon its smooth silvery surface. Her raven colored hair was heavily streaked with white. “Oh no, my beautiful hair,” she moaned. Angrily she turned to her father, “Is this part of your punishment then; to rob me of my beauty? Are you so jealous of my having my mother’s beauty?”

     The King’s features took on an amused look. “I? Are you blaming me for this hideous mess now? Can you really be serious, Meredith? It’s true I don’t like to look upon you. The likeness to your mother is uncanny and I’m sure it is a punishment she would enjoy if she knew of it, which I can’t say she doesn’t. Still, I do love you, daughter. Don’t you know that yet, any of you,” he asked, turning to stare at each of his three daughters?

     Meredith looked from face to face and realized that indeed her Father had done nothing to her. She sighed, “It was the magic then?”

     The King nodded, “Of course it was the magic. Their magic is much more potent than what has filtered down to us through time. That old magic is tied to that original place. You should know; you who dared touch the Rowan branch. I think, you will find you are lucky to have lived. How many times have I told you girls not to play at this? Now I come here and I find you have taken a human form, and from what I can see,” he said, pointing to the still form of James standing naked, “you have completely disregarded all my advice. Should I destroy him then, or set you free of your wings? Is that what you want me to do for your rebellion, for going against my wishes?”

     Hearing the challenge in her father’s voice, Meredith rose up to her full height, and made sure she stood between James and her father before turning to answer the king. “If you kill him you will need to destroy me too, father. I have listened all these years and stayed from any form but crow, but now things are different. I have fallen in love with this human and I will fight to keep him alive and if he should die I will follow quickly to catch up to him. I would pass away, before living without him,” she said, lifting her face to meet the King’s eyes.

     “Please father, don’t hurt her, she is your favorite, as well as our own,” Hectain and Reval cried out as they clung to one another in their fear.

     The King stood, rocking back and forth on his heels as he took measure of his favorite child. He could see clearly she was in love with the human; she had always been headstrong and spirited. He knew she would fight boldly to her death if need be. He could see the human was a good specimen, as humans go, and that his heart was clearly hers as well. There was one more thing he could see that he was sure Meredith was not yet aware of. She was with child. He did not know how this could be, for neither a God, nor a half God could bear a child of a human. It was an unbreakable law of the universe. He turned quickly away, snapping his mind shut on this bit of information before any of the girls could see it on his face. He stepped closer to the fireplace. “Very well, what’s done is done,” he said quietly, shrugging as the newly acquired knowledge weighed heavily on his heart. Turning back to Meredith, he smiled sadly, “Child of my heart, I see there can be no fight without great loss today. You have set many things in motion and I fear some of those things may well end up wreaking havoc on us all, but I will stand by your decision for now. I only say that you must stay vigilant, for the girl will need help in the coming time and you may well be asked to give all. I’m afraid even that may not be enough. Do you understand me, daughter?”

     Meredith could not believe her father was softening his heart. She had prepared herself to battle him and now instead, she happily ran into his arms.

      “There, there, child,” he said, patting her hair as she cried against his shoulder.  “I have tried all my life to spare you this very trial and yet here it is, so let us put our heads together for surely if any race of people can survive, it is the chosen Corvine.”

      Hectain and Reval boldly joined the two and hugged Meredith to their amble bosoms. “Oh father,” Hectain cried out.

     The King cut her off. ”Don’t either of you assume there will not be punishment for this event. I left your sister in your care and look what you have allowed to happen,” his voice grew dark as he turned on the siblings.

     Meredith broke in. “Papa please don’t hurt my sisters. You may not have loved their mothers greatly, but I love them both. They are very dear to me. They did not bring me to this point, I chose it.”

     The King sighed and allowed himself to be cajoled into a less volatile nature. What his daughter said was true. These two other daughters did love him and were loyal to him. Perhaps Meredith was right to place so much care with the two sisters. “Alright then, I will punish no one here today, not even the human who would dare to bed a Goddess of the Corvine.  But mark my words children, we all may have to pay a very dear price to try and fix this broken wheel of time. Now, I am tired and hungry. Hectain, Reval, let’s go home and you can wait on me. I will send word if the scholars find anything to help you child,” and with that The King snapped his fingers, taking all the mess and Meredith’s two sisters with him and went back to the land of Corvine.

     Meredith found herself standing in the cleared room, facing her husband.

      “Well the storm wasn’t too bad I guess. It looks as if the cottage stood against the gales without trouble. Tomorrow I will climb the roof, and make sure all is well. Shall we go back to bed darling,” James asked?

     “Yes suddenly I feel very tired.” She reached out and took his hand and let herself be lead back to the bed.

Gwenth’s Arrival

          Gwenth woke with a start. Her head hurt and her mouth felt as if she had drank too much cider. “I must be sick.” She reached out to push herself up from her pallet and felt her hands sinking. Gwenth jerked her head up; she was not in her bedroom. Rock and sand surrounded her. Gingerly Gwenth turned over and carefully sat up, trying to keep the pain in her head to a minimum. Nearest her, a wall covered with rocks shone brightly, as though they were filled with light. Looking down she saw she was sitting in dark colored sand. The stick lay nearby. She realized she was covered in what looked like a skin, but a skin of no animal she recognized. Staring down at her arm she could see that what she first took as material was not material at all, or even skin, but instead she was covered in small, beautiful, iridescent, blue-black feathers. She tried to pluck at the sleeve, but it did not give, instead it seemed to slide further down her hand as if to cover even her fingers. She anxiously ran her hands over her body. The feathers started at her throat; from throat to waist the feathers lay close and flat against her skin, she could see they accentuated her body. Further down at the waist she could see that the feathers seemed to part and follow the curve of her legs, and then the thing flared just above her knee. After the knee the covering billowed out and fell in loose folds to the floor. Gwenth felt a little shiver run along her spine, partly because of the beauty of the feather thing covering her and partly in fear of what it could all possibly mean. She felt a sense of panic rising up. Gwenth tried to lift her eyes and search about the room but the unnatural brightness from the walls, forced her head back down. Sickness settled in, within seconds all she could do was cradle her head in her hands and try to breathe slowly through her open mouth. Her stomach rolled and gave a great lurch and her fears grew.

     “I think a drink of water would help.”

    Gwenth’s eyes snapped open and there in front of her stood a young man holding out a container, but something wasn’t quite right. An alarm inside her head was warning her away. “Who are you and where am I?” She tried to rise, but was overcome once again by the illness and exhaustion, and had no choice, but to sit back down in the sand. “My father will not pay any pirate’s ransom for me if you harm even an eyelash on me.”

     The young man settled on the sand near her. “Whoa slow down. Is this your first time traveling? You seem pretty confused. You’re in the journeying cave of course. Where did you come from? My name is Briok. What’s yours? Where are your wings? I didn’t think anyone but Fey could use the journeying caves or are you some kind of wingless Fey? Do those feathers on your body help you travel?” He flew in closer to look at her.

     Suddenly it registered the boy wasn’t standing at all, but instead was hovering, just above the ground. She panicked looking about her for a way out. “Where did you say I am?”

      “I still don’t see how you got here.” Looking down he saw the thick Rowan staff that lay in the sand beside the girl. An overwhelming sense of dread rose in his chest so suddenly that he was taken by complete surprise when he landed hard on the sand. His wings had completely failed him. He stared over at the red haired girl a long time. He couldn’t believe she had finally come.” He took a deep breath, and tried to remember his duty. “Sorry, here,” he said, handing her the vessel.  “It will help with the pain in your head. It’s from the sacred well. The water is healing.”

       Gwenth hesitantly accepted the long-necked container as she stared in amazement at the boy standing before her. Her intuition felt he was no threat, even with the wings that clearly fluttered on his back. He certainly was not a rough pirate. Gwenth pulled the stopper and smelled the contents. It smelled sweet, she groaned, as she realized her thirst was like a thousand hot irons scorching her throat. Her thirst won out over her fear, afraid or not she had to have water. Gwenth leaned her head back and tipped the vessel letting the cool water run down her throat. Her eyes grew large in wonder, for she could feel the water rushing through her body. Immediately she began to feel cooler, even her headache swiftly ebbed away. She felt truly refreshed. Draining the vessel, she turned her attention to the container. She admired the handiwork for it was a fine thing, though she could not understand how it was made. At first she assumed it would be of clay, but it wasn’t. Instead it seemed to be made of leaves but stiff and translucent too. “That was good. Thank you,” she said, softly. She handed the empty vessel back.

     Briok leaned down to accept the vessel and both youth stared at one another. Briok saw the young woman’s flickering green eyes. As for Gwenth she saw the young man’s youthful beauty and when he bent down further she glimpsed the tips of his wings rising over his shoulders.

     “Please,” she said motioning to him. “Can I look? I’ve never seen wings before.”

     Briok was very proud of his beautiful wings. He happily turned so that she might see them more clearly. The greens and blues wove themselves in and out of the webbing so that it looked as if a wave of water was moving across the full span of his wings as he moved them. “So you don’t have wings where you’re from?”

     Gwenth stood cautiously, and finding her symptoms gone, she moved closer to the boy. The wings were of a fine cocoon like material and the colors were of the sea during a storm, very striking she thought. “They’re so beautiful.” She longed to reach out and touch them, but forced herself to sit back down. “Does it hurt,” she asked?

     Briok turned back. “What? Oh you mean where they come out of my skin? Well yes and no. They do hurt when they are growing, but the rest of the time no. Mine are almost done growing now,” he said proudly.

     “Where I come from no one has wings. The church would say only demons or the Fey would have wings, which I guess to the church, is really the same thing. You aren’t a demon are you?”

     “I don’t know of this word demon? My people are the Fey. What is this church that you speak of?”

     Gwenth laughed, “Course a demon would say that wouldn’t he? Though you are cleaner and smell better then I think a demon could manage. I really must be dreaming this,” she said, shaking her head gently.

     “Believe me you aren’t dreaming, but it soon may be that you will wish you were dreaming. Listen now, I’m going to go and get you some food. Wait here for me please, and whatever you do, don’t go outside the cave. I’ll be back as soon as I can but it will be a while even at that,” Briok said, and he turned to fly away.

     “Wait! Why do I have to stay inside? Are there monsters here? ”

     He shook his head, “There are now,” he said flitting closer. “Listen, just lie down in the sand, its warmth will help soothe any lingering aches while you rest and then when I return we will see what we can do to get you home. Don’t worry it will be ok,” he said, and he turned and flew out through the cavern’s entrance.

     Gwenth sat back down in the sand and from her spot in the warm sand she looked curiously around the cavern. Briok had called it a journeying cave. She couldn’t see how any kind of journey could take place here. There were no horses or carts or even boats. She got up and carefully made her way over to investigate the bright walls. They were covered in light. She stepped closer and squinted, she saw a tiny image of herself looking back at her from each stone. They glimmered and sparked, though she knew not from what light source. While it scared her to see the view of her face staring back at her over and over, it did remind her of the bit of silvered glass at home, but how a rock could do that she could not understand. Some of the stones seem to glow brighter and others looked as if they were filled with a swirling mass of fog. Gwenth walked slowly about the cavern, dragging her tired feet through the warm sand. The entire surface of the cavern walls and ceiling, were covered in the glowing stones. She thought it was quite lovely. It was then she remembered back home Meredith had once shown her a bit of stone she carried with her that had looked like these.

     Suddenly she saw in the wall of stone an image of herself using her stick to hit the wall. Gwenth ran back to the sandy place she had been laying when she arrived. There in the sand lay the branch, she’d brought home. “What can this place be? Perhaps this is a demon’s lair,” she whispered quietly to herself. Sitting down on the sandy floor, she tried to recall what had taken place the last time she was awake. Perhaps she had died and was in heaven, or worse maybe this was some unknown kind of hell? She tried to remember what the priest said about hell, had she been day dreaming when he spoke of a fairy hell. Tears began to well up as she looked down once again at the odd outfit she wore. Gwenth began to cry; nothing made any sense, certainly not these clothes, or this cave, or even the boy with wings. She lay back in the warm sand and let her mind drift away to her dad and their highland croft. Gwenth’s eyes grew heavy slowly stole and against her better judgment she felt herself drifting off to sleep.