by John Grover
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Darkness bled into the halls of the castle, coating its walls like a second layer of skin. Stone and rubble met to form an odd-shaped fortress of evil, with cavernous rooms and stairways winding into nothing. Cold and dank, no light dared to enter this abomination, save for its feral inhabitants.
Giant webs clung to the wall like tapestries, wet with venom. They festered on the ceilings like a fungus. The stench of death choked the air.
Alone in the grand throne room she sat, silence building up around her like enormous walls of defense. Her fierce yellow eyes glowed in the dark, like two candles burning perpetually in the void. Her black skin blended perfectly with the shadows, acting as camouflage. Silken robes danced in a breeze laced with sulfur. Beside her skull-capped throne, the half eaten corpse of an elf dangled from a chain. The chain’s faint rattle was music to her ears.
Sinnia sat and pondered, receiving visions from her arachnid warriors. She watched the towns and villages of the innocent burn in hot crimson flames. She saw the beauty squelched from the land. Her knights marched relentlessly, attacking and crushing every race that came into their path.
A smile crossed her black lips, but only briefly, for in the far reaches of her mind she detected a resistance growing. A thorn in her side.
No.
She refused to accept it. The prophecy had failed. The legends were untrue. The song from their myths would never be heard. Never. She dismissed it from her thoughts.
Footsteps upon her marbled floors drew her attention to the doorway. Through it walked two armored warriors, dragging a delicate hostage with them. Behind them two of her eight-legged pets scurried into the darkness, dragging a web-imprisoned meal with them.
She lifted her head to take notice of the prize before her. What a vision it was. In their arms they restrained a woman, her naked body a soft dove white, the likes of which was foreign to Sinnia and her minions. Although battered and bruised, she glistened with what looked to be fairy dust. Her once glorious, glossy wings were now worn and dim, the enchantment snuffed out of them. She bowed her head out of sheer exhaustion as they dragged her before the throne.
“You will look upon me...” Sinnia spoke, her words vibrating with not just one voice but many, as if a legion of evil spoke through her.
Sinnia’s yellow eyes glowed with radiance, and the fairy’s head lifted with a will that was not her own. The fairy’s eyes were lifeless gray, and her golden hair hung listless on her shoulders.
The spider queen’s eyes blazed. She cocked her head as she read the fairy’s thoughts. “You hoped to gain information from me?” She laughed mockingly then hissed. “A fairy spy? Or is it assassin? You poor dear. Don’t you understand? Your world is mine. I have risen again. Your prophecy has failed. Your heroes are no more. Bow to your new queen.”
“Never,” the fairy said defiantly. “You will be stopped. Your time is short, dark one.”
The spider queen laughed, before her expression transformed into a sneer. With a wave of her arm, the fairy soared out of the warriors’ grip and smashed against a stone cold wall. A crack pealed through the room.
Sinnia leered at the fairy, still reeling from her throw. She wiggled her fingers, and a host of arms plunged out of the wall. This torn flesh, in ghoulish decay, seized the delicate little fae. One hand even covered the fairy’s mouth, to let the dark queen bask in the silence she loved so much.
The Realm of Orum
The triple moons of Orum began to set as daylight broke over the land. A misty haze showered the horizon, blurring the radiance that the dawn once brought to the world. Nix and his men rode through the plains--flatlands filled with dusty fields and craters. A stark contrast to the lush emerald fields that used to fill this land.
The plains were once as vibrant and alive as any other part of Orum. Small bodies of water fed the soft, fur-like grass and Elder flowers, the oldest flower in Orum. Fields of these, with their gradient hues of pink and red, dotted the landscape. But what was left of them now only grew in clusters. The water dried up, leaving behind craters that vermin took refuge in.
The elves crossed the end of this land and into an enormous valley. Cliffs rose up on both sides of them. Nix’s ever-watchful eyes searched their ridges for any danger.
To the far south were the bleak swamplands--a network of low hills and marshes. Eelberry was the largest of the three swamps where the amazons were still clearing their fallen, the other two, Blight Bog and Stagger wood were the inner swamps. Smaller but much deeper than Eelberry.
To the north the Snowcap Forest resided--one of the three great forests of Orum. Named for its majestic evergreens and white firs, which grew so tall their tops were coated with snow, dusting the branches below with glittering white.
It was a crisp cool place, where artic birds nested and the secretive frost fae hid. Icy ponds shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors as clouds of steam blew across their surface.
A thin river flowed weakly through the valley. Nix and his men followed it the entire distance as it ran over slopes and down embankments, and then through a tunnel.
On the other side, the elves entered a grove with three waterfalls. They were on the edge of Loden Forest, one of the three great forests of Orum, in an area they called Trium Falls. Blue-green waters rushed jointly into a lagoon that broke into various rivers. One headed through Loden forest.
The waters flowed slower than they had in hundreds of years. This was the cause behind the rivers thinning out. Thankfully, the forest still held its green glow, yet to fade in the shadows cast by Sinnia’s presence. Above the treetops fireflies danced and played--beacons of hope to the elves.
“We’re almost home,” Nix said to his men, stopping his steed to give it a rest and let it quench its thirst in the lagoon. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He turned to Edon. “It has not been touched by her hand.”
Edon nodded and smiled, staring at the majestic green trees towering over them. A heavy canopy of enormous oaks, silver wood and birch. Even their bark was tinted green by the edible moss that grew upon them.
Nix thought back on all the times he and his friends, namely Edon, played in the treetops, running from one to the other, chasing one another, chasing the fireflies, and harvesting the moss for the night’s dinner. His people loved the forest. They respected it and lived off it. Its mystical nature still captivated Nix well into adulthood. How lucky he was to be born in a forest tribe. The hill tribes and grove dwellers weren’t as blessed to have grown up in Loden forest. He vowed the evil one would never set foot in the magical place.
“We shouldn’t remain in one place for long,” Edon warned. “We don’t want anything to track us to White Fern.”
“I’ve been watching,” Nix said. “We are alone. But you speak well, my friend. It is time to move.”
They continued on, galloping into the forest without a path, without hesitation. Some of tree branches parted to allow them entry. The group vanished into the dense cover of the trees.
They arrived at White Fern village, where a few of the children came to greet them first. Following behind them the women approached timidly, their faces long, their joy stolen. Moments later the wailing began, as wives and mothers discovered their loved ones were among those who did not make it home.
Nix dismounted and handed his horse off to one of the children. His wife, Maren, came to him, her arms wide. They embraced tightly, then he pulled away and smiled at his wife. He noticed the tears of joy in her eyes.
“I have returned,” Nix said. “Why the shedding?”
“You are my blessing. I can express my happiness no other way.”
He held her tight, kissing her cheeks, her neck, her slender ears. He brushed the dark locks from her eyes. “Have you visited the well-woman today?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Still nothing. I have not conceived.”
“Some day. We must be patient.” Nix tried to hide his disappointment
, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. They were among the highest royalty in the village. Nix came from a long line of leaders, and it was a heavy burden to still be childless. He desired an heir. Not only to carry on his name, but in case he did not survive these dark days. The war drew closer to home, and his wife was not the only one unable to bear children.
“Perhaps now is not the time for young ones,” said Maren. “With the scourge on our world, we should wait.”
“I understand your thoughts my love, but we must not let this evil stop us from living, thriving, or it has already won.”
Maren's silence was profound, but she knew Nix was right.
The smell of cooking fires tinged the air as the village gathered for their victory feast. A great oak table was brought to center court then filled with a bounty of fruit, vegetable, and game. Pedestals of fairy light surrounded them as they dined. Urns burned a sweet, intoxicating scent—an offering of thanks to the Gods of Orum.
On Nix’s right sat his wife, to his left his comrade Edon. Their cups were filled with Elder flower wine. They ate and drank while listening to soft melodies from the tribal musicians. Hypnotic drumbeats wafted through the air as harps resounded.
Nix turned to Edon. “I want you to summon the other leaders of Orum. We can no longer hold off this side of the world. Our numbers are dwindling. The unity I spoke of must be shared by all people of Orum. Lianna of the amazons, Salane of the Fairy Kingdom, and the other elfin tribes must unite.”
“Aye, my friend. I will get notice to them.” Edon poured himself more wine.
“We will consult the oracles as soon as we’re assembled. They must know a way to stop this evil Spider Queen. Fighting her armies is fruitless. She can produce more at will. We could be at war for eternity. I won’t have it. The ancestors banished her once before…”
“That was a millennia ago,” Edon said with a belch.
“Yes, but the oracles were among the people then. They’ve always been with us. They know much. They will see a way.”
“Those oracles give me the shivers.”
Nix laughed out loud. “You’ve faced beasts from hell, and the oracles frighten you? You are a puzzle, my friend.”
Everyone at the table laughed. A nervous laugh, but it relieved the stress of their peril for just a moment, and to Nix that was a good thing. He took his wife’s hand then looked around the table. He wondered if, after today, he’d ever see these warms faces again.
Seeing through the Mists.