by Hondo Jinx
Philia knelt and blinked up at him, her eyes shining with hope. “For any of this to happen, you must first officially invite me into your meadow.”
“How?”
“Call me by name and invite me to dwell with you here as the mother of your meadow.”
He said the words.
“Thank you, husband,” Philia said, blinking away tears of joy. “I accept your offer and claim this meadow as my own. By the loam and rain, I pledge to bring you a hundred wives and a thousand children.”
A hundred wives and a thousand children? Braddock thought. What have I gotten myself into here?
Philia’s eyes lit up like a pair of emerald-colored suns. Her body shimmered with green light. With a bright pulse, the light whipped away, racing off in all directions across the meadow.
The entire hilltop glowed bright green.
And suddenly Braddock could feel the meadow. He could feel its promise and vitality and benevolence. Its acceptance of him, of them, of a future together.
Then the light and strange feeling ebbed away.
“Thank you!” Philia said, leaping to her feet and hugging him fiercely. “Thank you, husband! You have given me my own meadow!”
They kissed, both boiling over with happiness in this shining moment.
Vaguely, Braddock was aware of Elizabeth and Chundra calling to them. At first, he assumed they were confused and wanting to know what had happened.
But then Doal bellowed, coming to his feet.
Braddock snapped out of his reverie, opened his eyes, and saw the intruders as Philia gasped with terror.
11
“Foolish girl, what have you done?”
Seven wickedly beautiful women half Philia’s current size hovered overhead, sneering at Philia, pretending not to see Braddock standing beside her.
“What were you thinking, idiot?”
“Ferns-for-brains!”
“Jumped-up, third-rate dew maiden!”
“Ungrateful child!”
“Traitor!”
Realizing these elder sprites were Philia’s longtime tormentors, Braddock drew both pistols. “Leave.”
Hortensia’s handmaidens hissed, bobbing like dragonflies. Their eyes glowed a bright, phosphorescent green, and their hair shot out in all directions like nests of snakes.
Braddock tried to put his sights on them, but his arms jammed to a stop. He struggled, but his arms were locked in place by invisible shackles.
The wicked sprites cackled with delight.
“Do you mean to harm us, man?”
“He’s as foolish as she is!”
“But handsome.”
“Yes. Delectable. Too bad the dew maiden tainted him.”
“No matter. He will make perfect milking stock for the meadow.”
“What do you think his wands do, sweet sisters?”
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
The invisible force jerked his arms out sideways, bent the elbows, and folded the forearms back in, pointing both muzzles at his own head.
“No!” Philia shouted, and another green pulse of green light shot away from her.
The seven sprites shrieked and tumbled thirty feet through the air before recovering themselves.
Braddock put his revolvers on the closest pair.
The handmaidens hovered, sneering from a distance. Philia’s blast had stripped away their confidence.
“You feel it?” Philia asked, her voice strong now and quivering with anger.
“Don’t be stupid, girl,” one of the sprites said.
“Yes, this is your last chance.”
“You know what you have to do.”
“Only one way to save yourself now, dew maiden.”
“Say the words and come back to us before it’s too late.”
“Yes, say the words. Charge this man with rape. Request our assistance. We will deliver him to the Meadow Mother, and she will forgive you.”
Philia’s laughter boomed across the hilltop. “The Meadow Mother will forgive me?”
The hovering sprites flinched, inching backward.
“Hortensia is kind and wise and patient,” one handmaiden said. “The Meadow Mother will—”
“There is only one Mother in this Meadow,” Philia said, “and I am she!” Glowing bright green from head to toe, Philia lifted into the air.
“Hold!” one of the sprites said, raising a hand. “Hear us out, Philia.”
“Oh, it’s Philia now, is it?” Philia laughed furiously. “Suddenly, you know my name. It was always stupid girl and lazy day dreamer and ferns-for-brains.”
“Just a bit of fun,” one handmaiden squeaked.
“Yes,” another ventured. “Terms of endearment.”
“Terms of endearment?” Philia shouted. “You beat and belittled me! But now… now which of you will harm me? Well? Come on, then. Surely, one of you has the sap to try.”
Philia’s eyes flashed dangerously as she looked from handmaiden to handmaiden. “How about you, Grisla? You’re always quick with a kick? Or you, Shayese? You do so love to pinch and twist. Well, who wants a bit of fun now?”
With every word, Philia’s voice grew louder, and the light emanating from her grew brighter. Its energy suffused the meadow. The hair stood up on the back of Braddock’s neck, and he felt a crackling energy on his eyeballs.
The handmaidens cowered in silence.
Philia threw back her head and split the air with a thunderclap of enraged laughter. “Not one of you has the sap to meet my eyes. Come, then. All of you at once. Come and see what it means to face the Meadow Mother!”
The handmaidens shied away, teeth gnashing with fear.
“Very well,” one of them called. “We were ordered to try and talk some sense into you, Philia, but you leave us no choice. By the loam and rain, your Meadow Mother, Hortensia, hereby demands you return at once to your home, where you will face her judgment.”
Philia crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “I refuse.”
“What? Perhaps you did not hear us correctly, foolish girl. This is a decree of loam and rain. You cannot refuse.”
“Incorrect, Grisla. Indeed, I must report to my former Meadow Mother, Hortensia, but even by decree, she cannot force immediate compliance. I hereby exercise a Meadow Mother’s Prerogative, which preserves and protects my initial time of communion with the meadow. If Hortensia wishes to see me, I will receive her here, in my meadow, under the laws of visitation. Otherwise, I will honor her request when she holds summer court.”
The handmaidens snarled and grumbled as they retreated slowly across the field.
“One more thing, sweet sisters,” Philia called after them, and the handmaidens paused, awaiting her parting words. “If any of you returns to my meadow, I swear by the loam and rain I’ll have your wings. Unless, of course, you grovel before me and beg the honor of joining my meadow… as dew maidens.”
With strangled howls of rage, the handmaidens shot away and disappeared into the canyon.
Once they were gone, Philia returned to Braddock’s side. Her aura died away, and she slumped into him.
Braddock slipped an arm around her and held her trembling body close.
Doal, Elizabeth, and Chundra all approached, looking concerned.
“You all right, darlin?”
Philia nodded weakly. “I was so angry. And so afraid. Hortensia is very powerful. She will be furious that I invoked the Meadow Mother’s Prerogative. It bought us time, but when summer arrives…”
Philia shuddered.
Braddock hugged her tight, figuring they had plenty of time to work out a plan.
“That was terrifying,” Elizabeth said. She looked worn out, too. The happy little spell had lifted; but so, apparently, had her original shock, because she regarded Philia and Braddock with genuine concern. “Are you okay?”
They all sat together and talked.
Philia leaned against Braddock and answered their many questions.
/> Unlike the handmaidens, Hortensia was not especially cruel. But she was proud. And a Meadow Mother scorned, Philia promised, was an unparalleled terror.
They would be safe from Hortensia and her sprites here and even in the canyon, so long as they did not enter Hortensia’s home meadow.
“Before summer, I must recruit seven handmaidens and become a true Meadow Mother,” Philia said.
“Otherwise?” Elizabeth asked.
“Otherwise, Hortensia will rip off my wings and hand me over to the handmaidens.” She turned sad eyes in Braddock’s direction. “And I am afraid, husband, that they will make good on their threat concerning you.”
“What’s a milking slave?” Elizabeth asked.
Philia shook her head. “No, I won’t tell you. It is too terrible. And I am growing so very tired.”
“One last question, please,” Elizabeth said, and swallowed nervously before continuing. “If these things come to pass, what will happen to me?”
Philia was nodding off. “Centaurs.”
Elizabeth sat up straight, staring at Philia with huge eyes. “What about centaurs?”
“The sprites will sell you to centaur slavers. A human woman will bring a fortune at the Crossroads.”
Elizabeth’s face twisted with horror. “They wouldn’t! I’m innocent.”
Philia nodded, then nodded off.
Elizabeth fired questions about the centaurs and asked what the Crossroads were, but Philia’s only response was the soft and rhythmic sighing of sleeping sprite.
Braddock scooped her limp body into his arms and carried her into the enclosure. She was very light, like a woman made of moss and wind.
Philia stirred, muttering troubled murmurs when he carried her through the gap and onto the rune-etched stones.
“Unroll my bedding,” Braddock told Elizabeth.
She complied without complaint, and he laid Philia gently upon the bedroll.
The sprite looked very small and weak lying there, so much so it was hard to believe she had emanated such power only moments ago.
Braddock and Elizabeth retreated, letting Philia rest, and went back out into the meadow, where Doal was sinking into the muddy ground.
Chundra gave a low whistle and retreated with a wave.
“Chundra,” Braddock called after him and started across the meadow.
They met in the middle.
“Thank you for your help, my friend.” Braddock pulled a piece of hardtack from his pocket and handed it to the little bear-man.
Chundra smiled, gave a deep bow, and headed across the meadow carrying the biscuit on his shoulders like a stevedore loading cargo.
Then he and Doal were gone, and with Philia sleeping, Braddock and Elizabeth were alone again.
He walked back to her.
They looked at each other. Braddock didn’t know what to say.
“You’ve gotten us into serious trouble,” Elizabeth said.
“That’s only half the story, darlin. Seems I’ve gotten you out of trouble here, too.”
Elizabeth gave a curt nod. “Yes, I suppose you have. But you never should have bonded with that fairy. What were you thinking?”
“She asked for my help. I gave it to her.”
Elizabeth snorted derisively. “It sounds like you gave her a lot more than help.”
Braddock shrugged. “Save your sermon, darlin. I got work to do. I’m going to ride back down into the canyon and see what I can salvage.”
Elizabeth nodded. Suddenly, she looked almost as worn out as Philia. “They’re not coming back for us, are they?”
He shook his head. “Philia ran them off for good.”
“I’m not talking about the sprites,” Elizabeth said. Her eyes bored into his.
“Oh,” Braddock said, catching her meaning. He cleared his throat and adjusted his gun belt and then looked her in the eye. “No, darlin, your people are not coming back for us. I have no doubt your father would if he could. He strikes me as a good man. But he’s back on Earth, and we’re stuck here, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Elizabeth winced, holding back tears, and nodded.
He handed her one of his pistols and went out to the buckskin and unloaded the gear he had salvaged, then mounted up and started across the field again.
“Mr. Braddock,” Elizabeth called, and he turned broadside to her and waited.
She held her chin high. “I will work, too. What do you want me to do?”
“See if you can clean up some of that gear. Most of it’s caked in mud.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do what I can.”
“All right.”
“And Mr. Braddock?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful down there, okay?”
He touched the brim of his hat and rode off.
12
Braddock made four trips without incident and hauled back a good deal of equipment. Later, when he had Doal’s help again, he would salvage the remainder, broken slats and all.
Presently, the stony giant remained underground. Philia was still sleeping off the effects of the sprites’ visit.
Sleeves rolled up, Elizabeth inspected and scrubbed the goods. She used water from the pool, which remained full and clear.
It was a pleasure to see Elizabeth working hard. Folks on the frontier learn to get along despite stark differences in creed and temperament—so long as everyone works.
The sun was high in the sky, just westward of noon. The day was mild with a pleasant breeze stirring the grasses.
Braddock stripped the gear from the mustang, rubbed him down, and fed him a handful of oats then picketed him and stroked his neck as he ate grass.
“You’re good to him,” Elizabeth remarked, shaking mud from a blouse and adding it to the pile she said she intended to carry down to the river.
“I’ve never had much, but I take care of what’s mine. That buckskin ran free for years on the range. Winter and summer alike, he got by. He’s tough. See those long scars on his hind quarters?
Elizabeth looked up from her work. “They’re terrible scars.”
“I reckon he got them from a mountain lion. And knowing this mustang, that mountain lion’s crushed skull is probably baking out on the range.” Braddock patted the stallion’s shoulder. “He’s the horse for me.”
That earned a smile from Elizabeth, who was brushing mud from another garment. “What do you call him?”
“I don’t. Never saw any sense in—”
Philia’s scream slashed through the conversation like a flaming blade.
Braddock turned and saw the lovely sprite hovering ten feet above the stone floor, staring down with bulging eyes.
“Nightmare?” Elizabeth guessed as she and Braddock entered the enclosure.
Philia settled to the ground. “More than a nightmare. The meadow sent me a vision.”
Braddock took the trembling sprite in his arms. “A vision of what?”
“This place. And that.” Philia pointed at the flat-topped stone box at the heart of the stone circle. “Now I understand what it is.”
“A sacrificial altar?” Elizabeth guessed.
Philia shook her head. “No. This place is not actually a Sidian seal. It was made to look like one to discourage exploration.”
Braddock scuffed at a rune with his toe. “If this place isn’t a seal, what is it?”
“An entrance.”
“An entrance?” Elizabeth said and glanced at the stones beneath her feet. “To what? Are you saying there’s something under us?”
Philia nodded, trembling harder. “Don’t ask me what it is because I don’t know. But I sense great power here. And great danger. Death and bounty, side by side.”
Elizabeth’s eyes swelled as Philia spoke. “We should leave. Find some other hilltop and build our cabins there.”
Philia gaped at her. “Surely, you jest. I would no sooner abandon my meadow than I would abandon a newborn child.”
“But y
ou said this place held death and danger,” Elizabeth countered.
“Don’t forget power and bounty,” Braddock said. “What else, Philia?”
“In my dream, a few of the runes burned bright orange.” Philia slipped from under his arm and approached the table.
She pointed to a rune that depicted three interwoven circles, each with a small X at the center. “This one lit up.”
She moved along the table, pointing. “This one, too. And this one. And this one.”
Braddock followed, brushing his fingertips over the indicated runes.
Elizabeth grabbed his arm. “Stop, Mr. Braddock. Please.”
But curiosity burned in him now. He brushed his finger across the final rune.
All four lit up bright orange.
Philia shot into the air.
The stones rumbled beneath them.
Elizabeth ran into the field, urging Braddock to follow.
He held his ground, wanting to see.
“It’s opening,” Philia said.
With a heavy grinding sound, the stone tabletop slid back to reveal the space beneath. Reaching the end of the table, the sliding slab floated through the air and settled onto the ground ten feet away.
Braddock drew his guns and stepped forward, craning his neck for a closer look at the hollow space within the magical table.
A narrow stone staircase descended into darkness.
“Get away from it,” Elizabeth said.
She clearly didn’t know him yet. Something this strange, he had to investigate.
Leaning forward, he called into the darkness.
Silence.
Aiming a pistol into the gloom, he tested the first step.
The stairwell exploded with light.
Braddock retreated.
The stairwell fell into darkness again.
When he touched the step again, the light returned.
Peering down the steps, he saw the source of illumination. Torches burned along the walls.
Magical torches, obviously. The notion didn’t shake him. After everything he had seen on Tardoon, he took animated torches in stride.