Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Legends

by Lydia Sherrer

  Pip squeaked encouragingly, flitting into the cave to shed a bit more light and, Sebastian supposed, show that there were no spiders in evidence.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Sebastian said, nudging her gently. “The entrance to Thiriel’s court is always different. Just be glad we got a cave this time. One time I had to crawl through a hole underneath a dead tree.”

  “Wait, we’re going underground?” Lily sounded even more nervous at the thought.

  “Uh, yeah. She’s the queen of decay, remember? Ninety-nine percent of decay happens underground.”

  Lily wiped her hands on her pants as if the very thought of dirt made her anxious. “Will it be slimy and nasty?”

  “No,” Sebastian said, exasperated. “Weren’t you listening? The things humans find disgusting about decay are mostly the smell and slime of death. You know, that instinct we have that decay means disease? But that’s because we never knew the world before, when decay was just decay and there was no such thing as pollution, death, and disease. Dirt isn’t disgusting, is it?”

  “Um, kinda, yeah.” Lily said sheepishly.

  Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You grew up on a farm. I figured you’d appreciate it. Ever heard the phrase ‘good clean dirt’? Soil is the accumulation of centuries of decayed material, full of healthy minerals and nutrients. And anyway, all fae love the beauty of nature. We’re not going to some grubby hole full of worms and beetles. That’s Grimmold’s home, not Thiriel’s. I promise, you’ll like it.”

  Lily took a deep breath. “Alright,” she said, sounding hesitant, but willing.

  “Why don’t you close your eyes, okay? I’ll lead you. Trust me, it will make things easier.”

  She did as he asked, and he took her soft hand in his, feeling an overwhelming surge of affection, followed by a twisting stab of doubt. Her trust in him was thrilling but also a burden. How could he ever live up to her expectations? He shook his head. That was not something to worry about right now, considering where they were going. He needed to be completely calm and focused, the exact opposite of how he felt when standing so close to her slender form…

  Snorting in derision at himself, he started forward into the cave’s darkness, bending his tall frame to fit the low ceiling and moving slowly so Lily could find her footing. The fox trotted ahead, no longer waiting for them. It knew there was no more need for a guide. There was only one way to go now that they’d stepped onto the threshold of Thiriel’s court. Sebastian knew that, if he looked behind them, the cave entrance would no longer be there, only blank stone and dirt.

  Their passage was not like moving through the twilight, but it definitely wasn’t a walk in the park, either. At times they seemed to be traversing nothing but air, completely surrounded by absolute blackness, though it was full of drippings and echoes, unlike the total silence of the nowhere between realms.

  Pip, her light dimmed to the faintest of glows, had taken refuge in Lily’s bag, safely segregated from Sir Kipling, who’d once again latched himself onto Lily’s shoulder.

  Their journey was not long, or at least it didn’t feel like it. Sebastian knew time was a fickle thing in the fae realm. It had normal days, lunar cycles, and seasons just like the human realm, but something about moving through the empty spaces in between threw off the normal workings of time.

  When he felt his foot fall once again onto soft earth, he knew they were close. The darkness drew back to reveal a familiar but still breathtaking sight that he would never tire of seeing.

  The ceiling above them vaulted upward into a massive cavern that could have easily fit several football fields within its subterranean embrace. On one distant side, a waterfall plunged down from the surface above and filled the cavern with a low thrum. This waterfall fed a large lake which narrowed into a crystal-clear stream, bisecting the room before flowing out a low archway on the other side. The majesty of the room alone was enough to awe any normal person, but the wonders did not end there.

  Instead of a purely stone cavern as might have formed naturally, this massive room was equal parts stone, wood, and earth. The reason was easily apparent. Visible at the end of the chamber was a massive taproot that had broken through the stone ceiling and grown downward, following the contours of the walls until it finally plunged into the soft earth of the cavern floor. The root was easily fifteen feet across, hinting at the truly gargantuan majesty of the tree it anchored above. Radiating out from this central root were hundreds of smaller roots of every shape, length, and size. They snaked down the wall and criss-crossed the ceiling, winding between stalactites and even growing down them toward the floor. This created massive pillars of twisting roots throughout the room that, as they reached the floor, had been guided to form beautiful arches, benches, platforms, and chairs, all shaped organically by the living wood.

  But even that wasn’t the most beautiful part.

  Sebastian gently squeezed Lily’s hand. “Open your eyes, Lil.”

  Her gasp of wonder was everything he’d hoped for, and he delighted in the reflection of bioluminescence in her awestruck eyes. All about the gigantic cavern, plants and fungi glowed in a dazzling display of blue, green, purple, red, orange, and gold where they clung to the ceilings, walls, and intricate root system of the tree. If that weren’t enough, the waters were also filled with glowing organisms, from plants to fish, and even swarms of minuscule creatures that blinked on and off in pulsing swarms of blue light.

  “What do you think?” He asked, unable to keep the grin off his face.

  “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she breathed, eyes wide as if to draw in as much of the magical sight as physically possible.

  “Still think the fae queen of decay will be gross?”

  “Certainly,” Sir Kipling replied for her, “if she’s covered in all of these squishy, wet, glowing things. Whose idea was this place anyway? There’s entirely too much water down here. I strongly disapprove.”

  Lily snorted at the same time Sebastian did, and they shared a fond but long-suffering look.

  “Just stay on my shoulder and you won’t get wet,” Lily advised him.

  “But then I can’t explore,” the feline whined in an impressively pitiful tone.

  Sebastian grinned. “Good. Maybe that will keep you out of trouble.”

  The cat glared at him, switching to Lily’s other shoulder so that her head was between them.

  Pip, having wiggled out of Lily’s bag, now zipped over to Sebastian and hid in the front pocket of his shirt. “Hey, calm down, short stock. Nobody’s going to bother you here just because you’re one of Kaliel’s.”

  The pixie peeped uncertainly.

  “Look, why don’t you stay in my pocket? You can hear and see well enough, and that’s all you were sent for, right?”

  A squeak of affirmation came from his pocket, and he smiled.

  “Who is Kaliel?” Lily asked, stepping forward carefully with him as they moved into the room. The fox was long gone. Sebastian knew where they were going, having spent…well, a long time here in days past.

  “Kaliar and Kaliel are the duality of growth, the opposite of Thiriel. Those aren’t their full names, of course, but it’s not safe, or polite, to say a fae’s full name unless you’re carrying on a formal conversation or requesting something.”

  “Oh…but then who is Thiriel’s, um, duality, is it? I thought you said there were four altogether?”

  Drat. Sebastian had hoped she wouldn’t pick up on that. “It’s…complicated.”

  “Come on, Sebastian. We’re in the fae realm, for goodness sake. I know your big secret now and I suspect by the time we leave I’ll have learned much more about the fae than I ever wanted to know. When are you going to start being straight with me?”

  Your big secret? What a naive child you have brought me.

  “Shut up!” Sebastian burst out.

  “What?” Lily drew back, hurt written all over her face.

  Sebastian ran his free hand thro
ugh his hair, fingers twitching in frustration. “No, no, not you. I’m sorry, Lily, calm down. I was, um, talking to myself.” He drew her back toward him, unwilling to let go of her hand. “Look, I know you’re upset, but please believe me when I say I will always tell you everything I can. The fae are masters of secrets. Some of their secrets would put you in great danger, and some of them are not mine to tell. Be patient with me…please?” He couldn’t look at her as he said it, knowing he didn’t deserve what he asked for, but hoping for it all the same.

  He heard her heave a sigh, then felt her hand relax. “Fine. Whatever. But one day I’m going to figure out something that annoys you as much as your secrets annoy me. I’m giving you fair warning now, so you can’t complain. Not one—single—peep.”

  Relief flooded him and he chuckled softly. “I promise I won’t say a word.”

  They’d gone about a third of the way across the cavern, feet sometimes padding over soft earth, sometimes sinking into spongy moss, sometimes echoing over smooth stone. They passed glowing pillars of roots and appreciated clusters of delicate, glowing mushrooms as shadows shifted around them—shadows that Sebastian knew contained the members of Thiriel’s court. But as of yet they were not revealing themselves. He heard his name whispered many times over, however, the sound melding into the distant hum and hiss of the waterfall’s cascades. It wasn’t the name Lily knew him by, of course. Thiriel was the only fae who called him Sebastian, as was her right. No, the name they whispered was a name he hadn’t wanted, not once he realized the full weight of responsibility that came with it. Of course, by then it had been too late to give it back.

  Qem’nathir, or simply, Nathir. It meant Caretaker in the fae tongue.

  Sebastian hated it. He was an orphan, a loner, an outsider, the last person in the world who should be taking care of anything. And yet, without reason, without obligation, the fae had saved him, putting him in their debt. Of course, they’d also manipulated and used him, prompting him to leave in the first place. Now he figured they were even. Not that Thiriel would see it that way.

  Lily must have felt some of his inner tension, because she gently squeezed his hand. When he looked at her, her brows were angled in concern. He simply shook his head, unable to give voice to the tumult inside. Her tender care only made it worse, adding guilt on top of guilt.

  They’d reached the center of the cavern where the stream cut straight across their path. A bridge of twining roots spanned the gap, arching over the water with surprising elegance. The unearthly glow of bioluminescence shone through the crystal-clear water, painting the underside of the bridge in vibrant blues and greens.

  In the middle of the bridge stood a figure, cloaked in shadow. As they neared, the shadows drew back, revealing a humanoid figure that, while familiar to Sebastian’s eyes, must have looked totally alien to Lily. The elongated face, bony limbs, and dark brown skin—like rich, freshly turned earth—would throw off anyone who didn’t know what to expect. And that wasn’t even taking into account the pointed ears and glowing green eyes. Sebastian heard her quiet intake of breath.

  “Elwa Urdi’arak,” he greeted the figure, inclining his head in respect.

  “Elwa Qem’nathir,” the fae replied. There was a long pause before he finally dipped his head, the movement unnaturally jerky for one so elegant and fair. Sebastian knew it galled him to show deference to a human, but kept his smile carefully hidden. The high fae considered it rude to show emotion.

  “I come at the behest of Queen Tahiri’elal, and request permission to enter her court.” Sebastian spoke in English for Lily’s benefit. The fae weren’t just stewards of nature, they were also keepers of knowledge. They spoke every language known to man and probably a few that weren’t.

  Urdiar was silent for a moment, examining them both, but particularly Lily, before he finally stepped aside. “You are expected,” was all he said before disappearing back into the shadows.

  As Sebastian led them over the bridge, Lily whispered in his ear.

  “Who was that?”

  “That was the king of the earth. Not the earth as in the planet, but earth like the soil. He’s Thiriel’s right-hand man, so to speak. He hates my guts.”

  “Why?” Lily asked, voice slightly muffled since she was looking down to make sure of her footing on the latticework of roots that made up the bridge.

  “Um…because I sort of took his place. Not as king of the earth, but as…um…Thiriel’s favorite.”

  “Oh…” Lily sounded thoughtful, which made Sebastian extremely uncomfortable.

  Wanting to distract her but having no idea how, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Hey, remember back in Savannah when I told you a certain individual had given me the ability to see through fae glamour? That he thought if I was going to be hanging around the fae, I deserved to know what they really looked like?”

  “Yeah,” Lily said.

  “That was Urdiar.”

  “I see…so is what I saw back there what they really look like? Or was that glamour? I thought we’d decided I can see through glamour too because of my fae blood from Morgan?”

  “Oh yeah, that was his true form. Fae glamour doesn’t work on other fae, so they don’t use it much in Melthalin.”

  “So why did Urdiar give you clear sight if you didn’t even need it?”

  Darn it. There she went again with the uncomfortably shrewd questions.

  “Um…there were a few fae who were, um, taking advantage of my human sight to, um…take advantage of me…in various fashions…” he shut his mouth, deciding to cut his losses while he still could and trying not to cringe in horror at his own clumsy words. Only Lily managed to make him this tongue-tied.

  “Sounds like there was quite a bit of advantage being taken,” Sir Kipling remarked dryly, his tone implying there was much more to be said, but that he wasn’t going to say it.

  “Oh leave him alone, Kip,” Lily whispered, distracted by the shapes that had started to gather, following behind them as they made their way to the giant taproot at the end of the cavern. “I’m sure it was hard being by himself, the only human in this whole place.”

  Sebastian relaxed, but only slightly. He couldn’t figure out if Lily was being subtly sarcastic, or simply nice. At least she’d stopped asking questions, which, while a relief, was only going to last about another sixty seconds. After that, they’d be face-to-face with Thiriel herself and all bets were off.

  Sooner than he’d have liked, they’d passed through the last of the root pillars and into a wide, open circle before the massive taproot. Where the root met the floor, a magnificent throne had been carved into the wood. Sebastian, knowing that fae did not use tools and never built things in the traditional sense, knew that the throne hadn’t actually been carved, but rather etched out by the rapid decay that Thiriel’s touch could induce. Inasmuch as fae created anything, Thiriel had created her throne. Around its edges grew beautifully delicate, fluted, and finned fungi in fantastic shapes, all of them glowing with ethereal light. The light shone off a figure on the throne, stately and erect. She was swathed in shadow, its constant shifting like swirling smoke, alternatively revealing and concealing, making it hard to discern exactly what she looked like.

  Sebastian didn’t need to try, he already knew. All high fae could shape-shift, and Thiriel was one of the few who preferred the human form over animal, plant, or their natural physique. She took the form of a tall, slender woman, retaining some of her natural features in her pointed ears and milky eyes that matched her bone-white hair. More striking, however, was her skin. It was as black as Urdiar’s was brown, its smooth surface reflecting the blue and green luminescence around her wherever the shadows parted to reveal skin. Sebastian could easily imagine her inspiring the old Norse legends of svartalfar, the black elves, who lived beneath the earth.

  Around the edges of the open circle stood other figures, some the tall, elongated forms of fae, some animals, some plants in vaguely humanoid shapes. All were s
ilent, staring. Sebastian could feel Lily trembling beside him as he drew them forward until they stood about ten feet from the throne. There he sank to one knee, head bowed, and nudged Lily to do the same.

  “Elwa melihi’araji,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on the floor. He could feel Pip shivering in his pocket, understandably nervous in the presence of so many high-ranking fae.

  Sir Kipling jumped down off Lily’s shoulder and sat beside them, looking around with interest and, being a cat, not showing the slightest hint of deference. In fact, after giving the air a good sniff—probably to confirm that there was no milk, or reasonable possibility of acquiring milk, in his immediate vicinity—he stretched one back paw above his head and proceeded to clean his leg with utter unconcern. Though able to see the feline’s rude behavior out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian was helpless to do anything about it without causing a scene. He just hoped Thiriel had a soft spot for cats.

  “Iwat a’elwa Qem’nathir.” Thiriel’s voice was cold and flowing as the stream behind them. “I accept your greeting,” she repeated in English.

  The required formalities over, Sebastian felt Thiriel rise and step down from her throne, approaching them. His breath seemed to freeze in his throat, lungs refusing to expand, whether from anticipation or fear he couldn’t tell. Probably both.

  He felt her smooth fingers on his chin, forcing him to look up into her blank eyes. Sebastian could not look away, captivated by the inexorable allure of her presence that demanded the attention of everything around her. It was all he could do not to be overcome by memories, pleasant and unpleasant, both equally painful.

  Betrayer. Why did you leave?

  Though she showed no outward sign, Sebastian knew she was furious. Dangerously so. But what was he supposed to say? Sorry for running away from something I didn’t sign up for?

  He swallowed. “I was afraid. I didn’t belong.” Both very true statements.

  She let go, flicking his chin to the side as if tossing him away, obviously unsatisfied by his answer. He returned his eyes to the floor, all too happy to be released from her piercing gaze.