Revenge (7) (The Underground Kingdom)

by Steve Elliott

  Revenge (7)

  Steve Elliott

  Copyright Steve Elliott 2012.

  All rights reserved

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Domesticity reigned supreme in our household. Thorn and Tracey, the fairy lovers of my two clones, were in fine health as was Trix, Tracey’s adopted elf daughter. Zen, Trix’s new pet wolf, was growing like a weed and inventing new ways of getting into mischief every day. His latest game consisted of hiding things. The peace of the day was often shattered by someone bellowing, "Where’s my hairbrush/shoes/hat?" There would be a moment of silent epiphany, and then: "Zen, where are you? Where’s my hairbrush/shoes/hat, you naughty little wolf?" would invariably follow. After the alleged culprit had been tracked down, a well practiced routine would commence ……..

  When confronted with his misdemeanor, the first expression to appear on Zen’s snout would be a studied look of injured innocence as if to say: ‘What? Me? Madam/Sir, surely you’re mistaken. You can’t possibly be accusing moi! I refute all the charges.’

  Then would come the affronted, blustering, ‘denial’ expression: ‘It wasn’t me! You can’t prove anything! I was nowhere near the place!’

  This was usually supplemented soon after by an abject look of remorse. ‘Okay, I admit it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s not my fault. It’s a sickness. Anyway, society is to blame.’

  By this stage, and under the deliberate influence of his ‘puppy-dog’ soulful eyes, the accuser would be forced to prematurely retire from the interrogation, poisoned by an overdose of terminal cuteness. Pretty pathetic, huh? This meant that Zen could get away with murder. He must have been the most spoiled pet in history but somehow, despite that, he was growing up to be very much like Zenith, his father, who had been the cleverest and most loyal companion in existence. Trix had been inseparable from Zenith when they were together but, now that he was patriarch of the Wolf Clan, he had delegated Zen to act as a substitute in his absence. It seemed almost as if Zenith had never left. Zen mirrored the appearance of his father, albeit a much younger and smaller version and, to find him, all you had to do was to locate Trix. They’d be playing games together or going for walks, or Zen would be sleeping, curled up on the couch, his head resting on Trix’s lap. It was heart warming to see and very reminiscent of the earlier Zenith days.

  I was almost exclusively with Thorn and Tracey these days, leaving them only to pop back into my human body for necessary maintenance. I’d awake in my flat, have something to eat and drink, visit the bathroom, have a shower, take some exercise, answer any correspondence, pay the outstanding bills and then hurriedly return to my underground home. I didn’t even have to work anymore as a computer operator because the Council of Elders, in recognition for my services to the community, had awarded me some gold from the local treasury. Back as a human, I had converted my reward into standard money via a gold buyer and used it for necessary expenses. All of this proves that I now regarded my fairy life as a much more satisfying one than my human existence. And it wasn’t even the presence of Thorn and Tracey making me say this either, although they certainly played a major part in it. Life was far more entertaining underground than on the surface. As a pseudo fairy, I found everything new and exciting – and the architecture, art and music were extraordinary. Granted, the scenery became somewhat monotonous, comprising mainly of rock, with very little in the way of vegetation, but the grandeur of the multicoloured stony vistas more than made up for this lack.

  Besides, I was surrounded by beautiful people. Not only were Thorn and Tracey the most gorgeous creatures I’d ever seen, but the whole of the fairy race looked exotically handsome. They were slim and toned, with enormous, slightly slanted eyes and cute pointed ears. Their wings were delicate, translucent and shimmering with iridescent colours. Truly, Nature had done Itself proud when designing this species. And it wasn’t simply the externals, moreover. The race as a whole proved to be predominately innocent, unused to the violence and treachery that often characterised the human genus. I found it a pleasant change not to have to guard myself every moment against the malicious intent of others. Not that everyone down here could be called a saint. Far from it. I’d come across a few bad apples in my underground adventures, but they were very much in the minority. On the whole, the One (they called themselves that instead of ‘fairies’) were peaceful, trusting, generous and simplistic. My cynical attitude to life, when I expressed it, was often greeted with puzzled astonishment. The listener usually wouldn’t be able to comprehend my point of view, which goes to show just how uncomplicated the One existence was. I revelled in their ingenuousness and virtue. A crooked card dealer would have had the time of his life in this subterranean world.

  Chapter 2

  As stated, our household was a happy one indeed. Trix and Zen were merrily bonding as playmates. Thorn, Tracey and the two of me were growing closer by the day. We were held in high esteem by the whole community and had constant contact with our good friend, Nix, the goblin. Of course, and pardon my pessimistic nature here, I felt things couldn’t continue in this blissful way indefinitely. And, unfortunately, my dour forecast proved to be correct. Tracey fell ill from a mysterious ailment that appeared to have no cause.

  The first symptom to appear was a distinct lethargy and a reluctance to exert herself. It seemed to be only something mild and we all shrugged it off as a minor inconvenience. But as time went on, she became weaker and weaker, and less alert. By then we’d become alarmed and deposited her in the local hospital to find the cause. Test after test followed with no result, and we began to panic because she her condition steadily deteriorated. We were constantly by her side but could only stand by and watch helplessly as she slowly slipped into a barely conscious state.

  I was with her – that is, her clone of me was with her – when she roused herself enough to regain full consciousness.

  "Stephen," she said weakly, "what’s happening to me?"

  "No one seems to know, sweetheart," I reluctantly told her. "I’m afraid that the doctors can’t find anything at this stage."

  "I see," she said in a low voice. She fell silent for a few minutes, then feebly grasped my hand. "I’m dying, aren’t I? Tell me the truth."

  I looked into her pleading eyes and confessed, "Things aren’t good, dear heart. You’re losing strength every day and we can’t find out what’s causing it so, unless we discover something soon, well ……."

  Her hand gave mine a gentle squeeze. "Don’t be sad, beloved," she whispered. "My time with you has been the happiest of my life. I didn’t want it to be so short, but we can’t control our destiny. If this is how it is, then so be it."

  "Don’t give up hope, my darling," I urged. "We still have time to fight this. Something may turn up. I’m with Thorn right now, and we’re talking to the doctors to see what can be done. Please don’t leave me. I’ll always want you by my side."

  Her beautiful face became regretful. "I’ll try, beloved," she sighed, "for as long as I can, but I’m so tired ……."

  After saying that, she slipped back into sleep and I gently replaced her hand back by her side. She was so debilitated that I became terrified of losing her. In the face of this mysterious sickness, I’d never felt so helpless. I sat down on a chair and put my head in my hands in utter misery. She was dying. It was obvious to everyone. What could cause such a transformation? Fairies had rugged constitutions and were very rarely ill, so what the devil had caused this?

  Meanwhile, in another part of the hospital, Thorn and I were quizzing a group of doctors, endeavoring to glean some
information. We weren’t achieving very much success.

  "We can’t find anything," one doctor admitted. "All our tests are coming back negative, so we know it’s not a commonplace illness."

  "So where does that leave us?" Thorn questioned, irritably.

  "Nowhere, I’m afraid," we were told. "We can’t treat the symptoms if we don’t know what’s causing them. I confess to being baffled."

  "Well, that’s just great!" Thorn exclaimed, throwing up her hands in annoyance. "So what do we do now? Can’t you perform more tests?"

  "We’ve tried them all," another doctors informed her. "Every single one. And nothing shows up. Nothing at all."

  "There has to be something you haven’t tried!" Thorn demanded.

  "I’m sorry," the doctor said. "We can’t do anything else."

  "So, you’re just going to give up, then?" Thorn exploded.

  The doctor shrugged. "We’ll keep trying, of course, but honestly, we don’t know where to turn next." Thorn sagged and I put an arm around her for physical, as well as spiritual, support.

  "Courage, sweetheart," I whispered. "Don’t let Tracey see you like this. It’ll only upset her and she has enough to worry about right now."

  "You’re right," she agreed. "I have to keep a brave face even if I’m crying inside." Then she grasped my shirt front. "Stephen, what we going to do?" she challenged. "My sister is dying in there bit by bit! I can’t bear it!" Then she burst into tears and I hugged her consolingly, trying to instil hope into her as best I could.

  Chapter 3

  I steered the distressed Thorn towards a nearby chair and guided her into it. I sat beside her with my arm around her shoulders for comfort. A few minutes later, Trix appeared and sat on the other side of Thorn.

  "There you are," she said. "I've been looking all over for you."

  "Where's Zen?" I enquired, noticing his rare absence from his owner.

  "I left him at home," she replied. "I didn't think the doctors would take too kindly to having a wolf running around their hospital. Anyway," she continued impatiently, "that's not why I’m here. I know something that may help Mother."

  "You do?" I asked, hopefully. "What is it? I'll settle for anything at this stage."

  "I suddenly remembered a snippet of conversation I came across when I was wandering around in the wilderness, before I met all of you," she began. "This old cogdommina talked about a priestess he once visited. He claimed she was a miracle worker for all sorts of diseases. He said she could cure just about anything."

  "That's good enough for me," I declared fervently. "Where does she live?"

  Trix scratched her head. "He was a little vague about directions, but I think I can find her."

  "We can't move Tracey," I remarked, thoughtfully, "so we'll have to bring this priestess person here. I hope she doesn't mind."

  "Too bad if she does," Trix announced determinedly, already striding away. "This is my mother we're talking about here. If needs be, I’ll drag this priestess kicking and screaming here myself."

  We made hurried preparations to depart. Usually, we would have included our goblin friend, Nix, on our expedition but, deciding that time to be of the essence, Thorn, Trix, Zen and I set out immediately. I also stayed at Tracey’s side in case something happened. That was the beauty of being installed into two clones – I could be in two places at once and transfer information directly to either one of me. It still felt weird to be split into different bodies, but I’d become used to it by now. Sort of.

  Trix led us into an area I'd never seen before. The rock formations were jagged and wild, with outcrops spearing up at surprising angles. I couldn’t see any sign of civilisation whatsoever, and I began to wonder where Trix was headed.

  "Are you absolutely sure you know where she is?" I asked Trix as we tramped along.

  "Fairly sure," she replied. "I know it was in this general direction, anyway. My informant seemed quite positive about it."

  "It couldn't have been just a myth, could it?" I questioned. "You know, an urban legend, or something?"

  "I don't think so," she told me, "although I suppose it's possible. But what choice do we have? We have to follow every lead."

  "You're right, of course," I agreed. "Even a slight chance like this has to be checked out."

  Zen seemed to be in his element out here. It was the first time he'd been in the wilderness and he made the most of the opportunity, sniffing at random objects and chasing anything that moved. Initially, I'd been reluctant to allow him to come, pointing out his inexperience and youth, but Trix had insisted that he come along.

  "I can't leave him alone in the house," she had argued. "With you in the hospital every day, who’d look after him?"

  And so, there he was, romping around the countryside like a true wolf. I suppose it did him good. After all, he might have the façade of a house pet, but deep down he still had wolf genes– a wild, untamed animal ancestry that needed to roam around in a natural state of freedom every now and again. Every time I looked at him he reminded me so much of his father, Zenith. The resemblance was uncanny. Not only in external looks, but also in cunning. Zen was sly and underhanded, a master of manipulation, much as his male parent had been. He’d grown into his adolescent stage by now, and had discarded most of his mischievous puppy ways. Trix’s training had moulded him into an obedient, although occasionally wilful, member of our family, delighting us with his antics and intelligence. He still persisted in being a bit of a handful, mind you, and a typical teenager, being downright rebellious when he wanted to do something we didn't approve of, but overall, he had definitely become an integral and cherished part of our household.

  Chapter 4

  We ate a hurried meal and then pushed on, anxious not to waste any time. After about two hour’s worth of frantic searching, we did find a house of sorts. It is more of a shack, really, and had a decidedly rundown look about it. The whole structure tilted to one side, giving it a peculiar appearance.

  "Well, I think this is it," Trix announced.

  "How do you know?" Thorn asked. "Anybody could be in there."

  "I'm simply going on the laws of probability," Trix replied with a frown. "This is the general area where she’s supposed to be and this house is the only one we've seen for ages, so our chances are fairly good, I’m thinking."

  "What a weird place," I murmured. "It looks as if it should be falling down any second. If the priestess is in there, she seriously needs to contact a decent builder."

  Without further ado, we marched up to the front door and knocked. Nothing happened, so we tried again. And again, each time becoming more and more insistent. Finally we heard a querulous voice shouting, "Calm down, will you? I'm coming! Stop banging on my house!"

  The door opened and a face peered out. An ugly face. A hideous face. Involuntarily, we all stepped back a pace in revulsion, startled by the apparition that loomed at us from the interior gloom.

  "Well, what do you want?" the face’s owner snapped. "I'm busy, you know. This had better not be about a love potion or something equally silly. I have better things to do with my time than to sort out the romantic entanglements of lovesick adolescents and middle-aged perverts."

  "This isn't anything like that," Thorn insisted, after a few moments of gathering her wits. "My sister is dying from a mysterious illness and we need your help." We were subsequently subjected to a rabid scrutiny from a pair of disturbingly penetrating green eyes.

  "Is she now?" the crone asked, rubbing her chin, which, I noted in passing, appeared to be liberally carpeted with warts. "How unfortunate for her."

  "Don't be so flippant!" Thorn immediately snapped. "This is my sister we're talking about! The least you could do is show a little courtesy."

  "Really?" this strange fairy replied, with an odd little smile. "And why should I? You're just like all the others. You traipse up here; bang on my door; disturb me at all hours of the day and night and expect me to drop everything and do your bidding. What would you tell
these intruders to do if you were me? Answer me that, young fairy, if you can!"

  I have to confess to being rather taken aback by the prickly attitude of the priestess. This wasn't what I had expected at all. Healers are generally compassionate, not aggressive and truculent. Something smelt decidedly wrong about this whole scenario. The priestess herself looked elaborately ugly. I mean, over-the-top ugly, if such a phrase exists. It was almost as if she'd deliberately gone out of her way to make herself repulsive. Her clothes were shabby, ripped and dirty, and her hair …….! Surely that couldn't have been a natural look. It stood out on her head like a spiky broom, as if she’d recently inserted a finger into an electrical socket. A long hooked nose, generously sprinkled with moles, jutted out from a face which, as already stated, looked gruesome in the extreme. With her stooped posture and mottled, greenish skin, she displayed the absolute antithesis to the general overall image of the graceful and beautiful fairy race. Remarkably so. In fact, she was so diametrically opposite that my suspicions became aroused. Either she’d been extremely unfortunate in her genetic makeup, or all of this had been created as a deliberate disguise on her part – a very convincing disguise, I had to admit.

  In the meantime, Thorn began to gear up her anger levels. To my mind, it appeared obvious that the priestess was intentionally provoking her, but I had no idea why. It certainly seemed a strange way to deal with petitioners.

  "Why are you being so horrible?" Thorn demanded. "I'm telling you my sister needs your help."

  "And I'm telling you, why should I help?" came the reply.

  "What do you want?" Thorn questioned, angrily. "Is it money? Do you want money? I'll give you everything I have."

  "I don't want your money," the priestess replied, contemptuously. "Do you think you can buy me like a jar of jam? Don't waste my time!"