“Maybe he’s deaf,” Buttons considered.
“No, he’s just been alone for too long,” Damselfly realised.
The man had long, curly hair that was plastered to his blackened face. An unkempt beard trailed down to his navel, which was dangerously emaciated.
“Bakka?” Damselfly started. “My name is Princess Damselfly and I have come all the way from Thronegarden to seek your help.”
The stranded figure did not react. His glazed eyes stared outwards across the void, seeming to view something that no one else could imagine.
“Please, we need your help,” Damselfly pleaded.
Bakka finally reacted, moving his head slowly to get a better look at his unexpected guests. The smith’s clothes were tattered and the soles of his shoes worn through.
“I cannot help,” he whispered in a voice that sounded like water travelling through stones.
“You are the only one that can,” Damselfly begged. “We need to know how to reach the Evergarden.”
“You can’t, I made sure of that.”
With that, the smith returned to his lookout position and refused to talk further. Damselfly sat down where she stood and wondered what they would do now.
Orion had found them.
The sorcerer wore a fierce expression. His red cape billowed behind him like a malevolent specter, and the crescent birthmark on his face seemed to shimmer with intensity. Damselfly tried to scream though no sound exited her mouth. She attempted to run but tripped over a loose stone and could not get up. As Orion pounced, she woke up with a start to find herself still in the Lavagarden with Buttons sleeping nearby. Bakka remained in his lookout position, staring into the distance without comprehension, and Damselfly felt her fear turn to anger.
“How long have you been here?” she demanded.
“I have no way of knowing,” the smith replied.
“What is the last thing you remember?”
“The Fairy King taking power.” Bakka shivered as he spoke the words.
“Well, the Fairy King was defeated in a rebellion led by my father and uncle,” Damselfly illuminated. “Unfortunately, when he was captured, the Fairy King destroyed Death’s timepiece and stopped time across Fable. Now there is not enough food to eat, no new life can be created and even magic is running out.”
“It is all my fault,” Bakka confessed.
“How could it be your fault?” the princess questioned.
“I was born in Thronegarden centuries ago,” Bakka started. “Back then Fable was one large continent with multiple lakes linking north, east, south and west. My father was a shipwright working at the castle; he made me his apprentice from a young age and I excelled. By the age of twelve, I was already a master; at fourteen I was overseeing a group of four other craftsmen, and by fifteen I had designed the greatest ship the world had ever known.”
Damselfly looked across at the dragon-headed boat, which sat perfectly still upon a bed of molten lava.
“How does it do that?” she posed.
“Every year we would lose a few ships to bad seas or sudden storms,” Bakka recalled. “I was ambitious and wanted to see everything that Fable could offer so I needed a craft that would take me anywhere. I created a boat capable of sailing any sea, even one made of fire and I named it Furio.”
“It is magical,” Damselfly remarked.
“I wish I had never begun working with magic; it is fickle compared with natural materials and has a way of corrupting your intentions.”
“Without it you never would have been able to make Furio,” Damselfly noted.
“Perhaps that would have been for the best,” Bakka sighed. “After leaving the castle and my father behind, I went searching for adventure. When one windy day I came across a dark figure navigating a passing vessel, he stopped to admire Furio, and I recognised the stranger as Death himself.”
“You’ve met him too,” Damselfly cried.
“He wanted me to make him things to solidify his power,” Bakka continued with his story, oblivious to Damselfly’s outburst or even her presence.
“In return he offered me longevity. I was so enamored with seeing the world, that I could not imagine anything better than more time to fulfil my journey, so I agreed.
I fashioned a cloak that would make Death practically invisible, I forged a scythe sharp enough to cut through starlight and, finally, I created the timepiece.”
“How did you create time?” Damselfly queried.
“I did not create time,” Bakka corrected. “It has existed since the very beginning. However, with the timepiece I found a way to manipulate time and gain a way of controlling it.”
“As a reward Death allowed you to live longer than any mortal man,” Damselfly realised.
“Yes, in my youth I did not realise the consequences of my actions,” Bakka admitted.
“We all make mistakes.”
“I have made too many unforgivable mistakes,” Bakka said, with a tear in his eye. “When the lakes began drying up, there was a fear that the different areas of Fable would be isolated from one another and so I was tasked with building a way to keep everyone in touch. I spent decades working on the Garden Gate, it was going to be my masterpiece, until I forgot my purpose and instead created something terrible.”
“I have passed through the gate several times and I think it is wonderful,” Damselfly offered.
“The Garden Gate was supposed to be free for everyone,” Bakka mused.
“After all the time I spent making it, I could not abide people taking my creation for granted so I made them pay a toll.”
“If people need the gate, they will find a way.” Damselfly spoke from experience.
“Then I created the Evergarden, a place completely isolated from everyone and everything else. In complete opposition to why I started the gate in the first place. I wanted to bring people together, and in the end, I only moved them further apart. That is why I retreated here so there was no chance of me making any further mistakes. I expected to die long ago, but Death’s gift was not specific and it was impossible to know how long I had left.”
“Don’t you see that if it wasn’t for your gate, my family’s rebellion would never have succeeded in overthrowing the Fairy King,” Damselfly stated. “Some of your creations can be used for good or bad, it is down to the individual and you cannot take the blame for their actions.”
“I appreciate your kind words, though nothing can redeem what I have done,” Bakka conceded.
“We can right things,” Damselfly demanded.
“You could make a new timepiece and everything could go back to how it was before.”
“I cannot, child,” the smith revealed. “The timepiece was crafted with magic from two unique bells: Sereth, the voice of death and Genesis, the voice of life. These bells were made from an extremely rare alloy found in a fallen star and cannot be replicated. No one alive knows the magic of bells well enough to duplicate the original timepiece and so we are trapped with the mistakes of our past.”
“What if we could retrieve the original timepiece?” Damselfly refused to give up.
“You said the Fairy King took it with him to the Evergarden; then it is lost forever,” the smith resigned.
“Some of the Sprites who followed the Fairy King escaped from the Evergarden using an artefact of your creation,” the princess explained.
“That is impossible,” Bakka dismissed.
“The item is a silver vial capable of storing very powerful magic.”
“I remember it.” Bakka nodded.
“Well, someone used the vial to capture moonlight and with this was able to break the barrier separating the Evergarden from everywhere else.”
“If that was true, why is the Fairy King not back in Fable?” Bakka asked.
“I don’t know.” Damselfly shrugged.
“There is no way to reach the Evergarden, and if you ever did, there is certainly no way back,” Bakka evaluated.
“There
has to be a way,” Damselfly reiterated.
“It is funny that you mention moonlight,” the ancient smith reminisced. “There is an old tale that is brought to mind after all these years.”
“Please tell it to me,” the princess pleaded.
“I doubt many people remember such an old tale. Maybe I should pass it on to a younger generation,” Bakka agreed.
The Colour of Water
When the moon escaped the Lady of the Lake’s possession,
There was no way for her to vent her fury,
So her revenge became an obsession,
For anyone unlucky enough to cross her path there would be no mercy.
A man visited a lake to fish,
When from the depths an old woman appeared,
She offered the Fisherman a wish.
Granting him a chance for everything he ever wanted.
To gain his heart’s desire,
All he had to do was solve a riddle,
What is the colour of water?
It could not be, more simple.
The Fisherman looked into the water,
Considering his answer carefully,
Before stating the water is clear,
I can see infinite opportunity.
The Lady congratulated the Fisherman as being truly wise,
A visionary who can look forward,
To discover the future without disbelief or surprise,
A man deserving of a fitting reward.
The Lady produced a rare opaque opal,
Which turned the fisherman’s eyes translucent,
Making him a willing disciple,
With unlimited ire that burned iridescent.
A Boy came to the lake for a swim,
When suddenly the waves grew violent and he feared he would drown,
A beautiful woman emerged to rescue him,
Wearing pearls in her hair and on her gown.
The Boy was grateful to his savior,
In return he agreed to answer a question,
The Lady asked what is the colour of water?
In your honest opinion.
The Boy barely glanced at the water before proclaiming the water blue,
Reflecting a sky full of adventure,
Where dreams could come true,
Someone may even discover hidden treasure.
The Lady offered the child a cerulean sapphire,
When he accepted it, the gem made sure he would never be satisfied,
His ambition would burn like an inextinguishable pyre,
Making the Boy’s heart calcified.
One day a Washerwoman brought clothes to the lake to wash,
Enjoying the solitary tranquil scene,
When a girl appeared from beneath the waves with a crash,
Like something from a dream.
The girl asked the Washerwoman a question and in return promised to help with her chore,
All she wanted to know,
What colour is the water?
One answer and she would have good work to show.
The Washerwoman pronounced the water green,
It seemed to hold a potent mystery,
Something that could not be seen,
Giving the viewer a chilling feeling of uncertainty.
The Lady presented the Washerwoman with a piece of emerald jade,
Which caused an envious feeling of spite,
That could never be repaid,
Until all was blight.
A Soldier walked by the lake side,
When he heard a woman cry out desperately,
The Soldier saved the woman before she was pulled under by the tide,
Getting her up onto the bank to safety.
The damsel was grateful but asked for one more favour,
Could her brave hero see anything amiss?
With the colour of the water,
An answer in return for a kiss.
The Soldier saw many colours in the water making a prism.
He believed things happened for a reason,
That it was all part of nature’s mechanism,
A seed for every garden.
The Lady proffered her champion with a piece of clear glass.
In it his mind was trapped,
Unable to escape or pass,
It was now the ladies in an eternal pact.
A Poor Man went to the lake for a drink,
He was surprised by a bedraggled woman,
With dirt covering her skin like ink,
She asked the Poor Man a strange question.
Tell me the colour of the water,
I wish only to hear the truth,
For this water has magical properties,
It can grant a worthy man his lost youth.
The Poor Man was suspicious but saw no harm,
He announced the water to be brown,
Bitter when sweet, dangerous when calm,
In it he saw his reflection wearing a muddy crown.
The Lady gave him a lump of auburn clay,
Which would always remind him what he was missing,
With each passing day,
He felt the loss like a humiliating branding.
A Criminal passed the lake while trying to flee,
He witnessed a wealthy woman dressed in fine apparel,
Gallantly he offered help to this member of the aristocracy,
Such people were usually gullible.
The Criminal made a terrible mistake,
For the wealthy dame was not as she might appear,
It was the Lady of the Lake,
Who demanded to know the colour of the water?
It is the darkest black,
A fetid watery prison,
Like living life with your head in a sack,
Until you lose all reason.
The Lady presented the Criminal with an obsidian shard of jet,
In place of his soul,
It made him forget,
To enable him to fulfil his new potential.
These six lost would expand the Lady of the Lake’s dominion,
She named them her Clay Legion.
“That was a wonderful story though I don’t understand what it has to do with moonlight?” Damselfly reacted.
“Well, the criminal was destroyed by moonlight; it is their one weakness,” Bakka explained.
“Are the other five still around?” Buttons asked nervously.
“Three of them are,” the smith replied. “The Washerwoman, Fisherman and Poor Man remain ardent minions of the Lady of the Lake. The Boy and the Soldier were defeated with powerful magic, much of which has now been lost.”
“Do you mean bells?” Damselfly questioned.
“Yes, the boy was overpowered by a sorceress wielding a bell,” Bakka explained.
“Could you make a bell like that?”
“I don’t think so. Those items were often made of rare minerals that are practically impossible to come across.”
“You could craft another vial. I know you can,” the princess pleaded.
“The artefact itself was inconsequential compared to the magic that made it special. There is no one left to perform such rituals and so my meagre talent is of no use,” Bakka revealed.
“There must be something we can do,” Damselfly fought.
Bakka, who had been drawn out of his reverie after so many years by the sharing of mutual stories, began to consider carefully what he might do to help the princess.
“I cannot recreate the vial, or anything that requires magical properties,” the smith stated. “However, I could craft a master key that would enable you access to any garden at any time.”
“Would it get us into the Evergarden?” Damselfly posed.
“I don’t think so,” Bakka answered. “There is no entrance to the Evergarden that can be reached without significant risk.”
“A key.” Damselfly considered the possibilities.
“A skeleton key,” Bakka agreed. “But we will need
some material to craft it from and I have nothing here.”
“What about this?” Buttons offered the broken sword that they had been rewarded with in the Wintergarden.
Bakka took the damaged weapon in his calloused hands and turned it over experimentally.
“It might work.” He grinned for the first time in years.
Damselfly leapt with excitement, grabbing hold of Buttontail in a delighted embrace.
“We will save mother yet,” she declared.
They sailed in the greatest ship ever built, Furio, whose prow could pass through a river of lava with elegance and strength. Damselfly was delighted to have encountered a hero from Old Nana’s stories along with gaining an opportunity to continue her mission. Once they exited the Lavagarden, Bakka took them to a nearby forge where he began crafting the key. Damselfly and Buttontail enjoyed a short respite from their travails after so long travelling they were grateful for a chance to rest. Bakka did not waste a single moment. The great smith seemed revitalized and was up working on his latest masterpiece until it was completed. When the finished article was revealed, Damselfly could not believe the item had been fashioned from her old broken sword. Now it had become a work of art; the key was burnished silver with a skull for a handle and intricate grooves that could unlock any garden.
“With this key you can travel anywhere,” Bakka announced.
“The Musicgarden, Dreamgarden or Hovergarden are all open to you.”
“What is the Dreamgarden like?” Buttons asked greedily.
“Whatever you want comes true however—”
Before Bakka could finish he was interrupted by Damselfly.
“We are going to the Evergarden,” the princess overruled.
“I don’t know how you can reach it,” Bakka sympathised. “The Evergarden is different to all the others, because it was designed to be separated. To my knowledge, no one has ever returned from the Evergarden.”
Thronegarden Page 15