by Anna Tan
A hand landed on Jane's shoulder. She screamed.
“There. I’ve found you. The naiads were actually right.” Jane turned to see a pretty girl with wild hair and a greenish tinge.
“Who are you?”
Euthalia barely stopped to introduce herself. “You know how fluid they tend to be with places and times. I searched for you at the adlet’s house, but you’d left. The trees said that you’d gone to the river, so I returned, but the Ghillie Dhu had wandered off somewhere and the only ones who would tell me anything were the naiads. Some of these nymphs! Althea is such a bad influence on them; just because the Ghillie Dhu said I’d done the right thing, she’s gone and told all the nymphs not to speak to me anymore! Why, what’s the matter?”
“My father—” Jane pointed.
“Oh that.” Euthalia waved a hand. “Stop! Leave him alone,” she commanded.
The naiads stopped, turning to look at her.
“Back, back to your waters, my friends. Keep your hands pure and clean.”
Hesitantly the naiads moved as Euthalia urged them. They backed away towards the stream, shooting malevolent stares at Darrick. He shivered involuntarily.
“Why should we listen to you?” one asked, her eyes fixed on Euthalia. “The Queen is angry. She comes. She comes!” With that final cry, the naiads disappeared into the water.
Jane ran to her father. He held her in a tight embrace. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Father, I—”
“We are off now! Our mission is over! The Witch’s daughter has been found. Goodbye!” The imps scurried off, leaving Darrick bewildered.
“What? Wait! You can’t leave us here,” he called, but they had gone.
Euthalia approached them, Ataneq trailing a short way behind. “I do hate to cut short your reunion, but I think you’d better think about leaving. They did say the Queen is coming.”
“You!” Darrick exclaimed, looking at her properly for the first time.
“Hello, Darrick. It has been a long time.”
“Yes, it has. I don't recall your name.”
She introduced herself again, still scanning their surroundings. “As I said, I think you should start moving.”
There was the crash of armour, and all four of them turned to look.
“Too late,” Ataneq whimpered.
The ugly creature was taller than Darrick by at least two heads.
“What is that?” Darrick asked.
“That’s an Ogre. There are very few of them left after the massacre. The ones who survived hate humans with a passion.” Distaste oozed from Euthalia. “Just the kind of creature the Queen would choose, of course.”
The ogre roared. “Fee Fi Fo Fum. I smell the blood of an Englishman.” He stooped to stare Darrick in the eye.
“You.” His eyes narrowed. “How DARE you enter my Kingdom! After all you have done to me, dare you still show your face?”
Darrick returned the stare in confusion.
“No words on your lips, human? Nothing to say before my ogre crunches your bones?”
“The Queen is talking to you through the ogre,” Euthalia said with pursed lips. “You probably should answer her.”
“I know not what I have done to you, Your Majesty,” Darrick replied with a formal bow.
“Hah, formality and lies will get you nowhere. What are you doing in my realm?”
“My presence here was one of necessity. I would not have come except for great need.”
“Humph. What need was that?”
“My daughter... was lost. But I have found her now and our presence need not burden you anymore.”
“Your daughter?” The ogre seemed to contemplate. His attention turned to Jane, who shrunk back behind her father. “Impossible. You lie.”
“I do not lie! She is my daughter.”
“Impossible! She cannot have children, not in your way. I do not know whose child this is, but it cannot be hers.” The ogre’s gaze swung back and forth between Jane and Darrick, finally settling on staring angrily at Darrick. “Why do you insist on lying to me? Do you welcome your death?”
Darrick stared helplessly at the ogre’s bared teeth and wild eyes. “I’m not lying. I do not long for death, but I do not know who you talk about. Jane is my child as sure as day is day.”
“So you think.”
“I know, O Queen! I would never doubt my wife!”
“She is not your wife! She will never be your wife! I do not permit it!” the ogre roared.
“Who are you to say who is and is not my wife? Stop speaking in riddles!” Darrick shouted back.
By now, multitudes of different creatures had gathered around them. The naiads had returned, blocking their way to the stream. Jane caught sight of the Kelpie who winked at her and tossed his mane. Nymphs of all sorts circled them, whispering like the leaves. In their wake, the trees bent to each other, as if hemming the two humans in. The Ghillie Dhu sat frowning at them, especially Euthalia who stood defiantly by Darrick. Tiny creatures, what Jane assumed to be various fairy folk, zipped through the sky, winking in and out of sight.
“Don’t claim ignorance. You have broken the treaty and will die by my law. No one can begrudge me that!” The ogre reached for his club and raised it high.
“Consider long, my Queen,” a voice spoke up.
A stately centaur strode in between the ogre and Darrick. “Will you not hold fair trial in the Queen’s court? Will our fair folk then have cause to say that the Queen does not abide by law and justice? What if his family makes claim against you?”
“Why do you plague me, Alexei?” The Queen growled through the ogre.
“I remind you of what is fair. Isn’t that our role as the Council? Wasn’t it our wisdom that you sought?”
“Fine!” the ogre roared, smashing the club into the ground. “Fine. So be it. Take them to court. That dryad included.” The ogre pointed a thick finger at Euthalia.
Solemnly, the centaurs surrounded the three of them. Ataneq sidled away as quietly as he could, hoping that the Queen would not pick him out as well.
“I’m sorry. You will come with us,” Alexei said. Darrick nodded in assent. They followed the centaurs deeper into the Old Fairy Kingdom.
The ogre watched them pass by with malice.
Chapter 18: The Witch’s Risk
1954
Mary was worried about her mother. Ivy had been sitting in the living room muttering to herself almost all morning. When she wasn’t muttering she was pacing up and down, alternating between glancing at the roof and out the window. Even during lunch, she had been withdrawn, answering Mary’s questions with one word answers, her face drawn and pale. Mary glanced at the herb basket. There was probably enough for another day. She wished Jane and her father would come home quickly. After all, Euthalia had said they were safe, hadn’t she?
Mary had almost finished washing the dishes after lunch, when she heard the pitter-patter of little feet. She scrunched up her nose, wondering if they were rats. They’d never had rats at their house; the only one she’d ever seen was at a village birthday party three years ago. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel about them.
When tiny little men crowded around her asking for a witch, Mary was so surprised she dropped a plate.
“What happened?” Ivy called.
“There are little people—”
Her mother skidded into the kitchen. “You have done it? Where is she?”
“Mother?”
“Hush child, don’t be afraid.” The imps made a path for Ivy as she walked over to her younger daughter and hugged her close.
“I’m not afraid,” Mary protested, but Ivy’s attention was on the imps.
“Well?” she demanded.
“We found her. She is in the Old Kingdom.”
“Why didn’t you bring her back? Is she safe?”
“You asked us to find her, not to bring her back,” Teal said with annoyance. “She is safe with her father.”
“Her father!” Ivy exclaimed, turning pale. “He is there?”
“Yes.”
“But how? How did he get in?”
“I told you we have nought to do with him. Now about that matter of payment...” The imp grinned.
“What is it you want?” Ivy couldn’t think straight. Oh, Darrick. You’ll die before I get to you—he’ll die unless someone intervenes. Oh, don’t you dare die! I’ve worked so hard to keep you alive. Oh Mother, what will you do in your anger?
“The firstborn of the firstborn is sacrosanct. Will you release your second born to us?”
“What?” Ivy focused again on the imps. “What do you want with her?” She held Mary close, young Mary who stared at them with bewildered eyes, and gawked at her mother as if she had never seen the woman before.
“To cook for us, to slave for us, to do the many things we have done for you all your life! A life for a life.”
Ivy glared down at them and they withered.
“You know we joke, Leanen Sídhe!”
Her voice was hard. “I begin to wonder.”
“You’ve left the old ways behind, Witch. You’ve forgotten us for far too long.”
“Do you think I can forget? When every day I live in the fear that the man I love will be lost to me? I have not called on you because I do not have the strength anymore, Teal. Every spell I weave, every magic word I speak costs me.”
“And every year our clan shrinks because none will offer protection to those who have lost the regard of the Witch. Through no fault of our own, if I may add.” Teal’s face was a dark shade of purple.
Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Must it come to that?”
“We need your pledge, Witch.”
Ivy sighed.
“Mother?”
“Later, Mary.” Ivy walked to the middle of the kitchen and raised her arm. With slow, clear words, she incanted:
The protection of this house is yours, now and forever more.
Our sustenance is yours for as long as you need,
Our lives are pledged as friend to friend
That those who come against you will face our wrath.
The silence grew heavy as her words hung in the rafters, absorbing themselves in the wood. With quiet nods, the imps disappeared into the woodwork. Ivy let her arms drop, feeling a great weariness fall over her. She leaned on Mary as she stumbled to a chair. Her daughter still stared at her wide-eyed.
“You have seen a lot of things I did not wish for you to know of yet,” Ivy said gently. “And you will have to see more that I cannot hide from you. For now, will you make my tea? I have need of great strength.”
Mary hesitated, opening her mouth to ask questions, then shutting it again as she considered Ivy’s pale, drawn face.
As Mary set the kettle to boil and mixed the special strengthening brew of herbs her mother relied on, Ivy sat staring at the fire. “The imps will not harm you. They will listen to you as my daughter. Do you feel safe here alone?”
“Yes, mother,” Mary answered as she placed the cup in her mother’s hand.
“I don’t have the time to explain everything to you now, Mary. Your father is in danger and I am going to have to do a very dangerous thing. This is the only way I can think of to get to him fast enough.” She held the cup in trembling hands and took a long draught.
Mary barely hesitated before she asked, “Can I come with you?” She stared at her mother longingly, remembering with great excitement her meeting with Charon and Euthalia. Maybe I could help save Father!
“I wish you could, but I do not know how. One of you, at least, should stay here in the village where she cannot get at you. I cannot bear to lose all of you today.” Draining her cup, she took a handful of the herbs and threw them in the fire, muttering long-unused words under her breath.
She looked at her daughter with bright eyes. “Do not be afraid, Mary.” With that, she threw herself into the fire.
Mary screamed as the fire seemed to burst out of the grate and envelop Ivy. The bright shimmering blinded her and she threw up her arms to protect herself. When she opened her eyes again, a beautiful, crested bird stepped out of the fire, seemingly surrounded by a halo of light. It unfurled its wings and with strong steady beats, took to the air, circling Mary’s head once as if to say goodbye. Mary stood rooted at the window watching as the phoenix dwindled rapidly to nothing more than a speck in the sky.
Chapter 19: The Queen’s Judgement
1954
The Queen in her anger was a sight to behold. She stood tall—taller than Darrick, almost as tall as the ogre—with immaculately coiffed thick bronze curls that reached to her waist. Her skin was fair, like light cream, touched with pink carnation anger. Her face was beautiful even in its austereness, like an exquisitely carved Greek statue. She watched with flashing black eyes as Darrick, Jane and Euthalia were escorted into her presence.
It was unlike any court that Jane could have ever imagined. She remembered the hard stone of their village courthouse, the thick, scored wood of the whipping post, the smell of fear and blood, the mud and dirt and hopelessness that underlaid everything. Here, lush, thick grass, soft to the foot, was ringed by great trees. An ancient yew stood prominently at the head of the circle, under which the Queen stood by her throne of silver. Jane could feel the anger emanating from the Queen, and yet the calm of the Council of Centaurs pervaded the place, seeking to placate it, if not turn it aside.
“What do we do, Father?” she whispered.
“I do not know.” He seemed haggard in the light, with an anxiety she could not fathom. What she felt was a lightening of her spirit, as if a great joy was descending upon her.
“You’re glowing,” Euthalia said with astonishment.
“Am I?” Jane almost giggled. “I feel so… so powerful. What’s happening?”
Euthalia opened her mouth to reply, but shut it again when the Queen raised her hands.
“Let the prisoners be brought forward,” she called in a dark and terrible voice. Jane’s heart resonated with its power, drawing strength from it even as her father paled and faded beside her. It was he who now gripped her hand in terror as they stepped forward to the raised dais.
“What are we charged with, O Queen?” she found herself speaking with a newfound courage.
“Trespass and breaking of the treaty,” she proclaimed, but a glimmer of uncertainty had entered her eyes as she looked at Jane. “What are you, human? You appear strange to my eyes.”
“What am I?” Jane laughed. “I do not know. I have not felt this before; I do not know what it means.”
“No matter. You have still trespassed where you have not been invited to enter.”
“Did I? I came here by accident, I admit. But I have felt nothing but welcome in my spirit. It’s as if my spirit knows this place, even as it knows... you.” She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice. She had never seen the Queen in her life and yet she felt as if she should know her. Somehow.
The Queen blinked. “I will deal with you later.” Brushing her uncertainty aside, she turned to Darrick. “And what of you, O man, O ancient enemy? What excuse do you have?”
“I—” he tried to speak, but he could not claw the words from his throat.
“So you admit! You came unbidden, breaking our treaty, breaking our laws. Your life is forfeit to me!” A cruel smile spread over the Queen’s face. She lifted her hand, a long knife appearing in it, standing ready to strike.
“Let all witness!” she cried, her hand falling. There was a bright flash. When everyone could see again, the Queen still stood with her arm upraised. Darrick lay unharmed in his daughter’s shadow. Jane had her hands raised in opposition to the Queen’s, tensed as if they were straining against an invisible force emanating from the Queen. A phoenix perched on Jane’s shoulder.
“Well done, Jane,” the phoenix whispered as it fluttered down to the ground.
“What sorcery is this?” the Queen demanded. The bird shimmered and
in its place stood a young woman.
“Hello, Mother,” Ivy said, laying an arm around Jane’s shoulders. “Isn’t this such a great reunion? I see you’ve met your granddaughter.”
Jane stared at her in astonishment. The lines of pain etched in Ivy’s face were gone, making her look decades younger. Her greying hair appeared long and luxurious, changed to a shining golden blond. Her face lit up in a beautiful smile, the weariness she had been carrying dissolved in the brightness of her eyes. She was radiant.
The Queen stood transfixed, a deep furrow marring her smooth brow. She shook her head as if to dismiss her thoughts, turning her gaze from Jane to Ivy. “So you finally return, Iliana,” she said.
“Return, Mother? No, I have come to claim what is mine.”
“Yours? Impossible.”
“Did you not have human lovers before, Mother? Am I not a child of one of those unions?”
“But far in the land of man without the strength of our powers, how do you not consume him? How is he still alive? If she lives, he should have died as all of mine have. Since he lives, she cannot be yours.”
“That is a tale not for this court, Mother. Restore him to me and I will tell you of it one day.”
“No, tell me now or he does not leave alive.”
Ivy looked down at her husband. She shook her head as she faced the Queen again. “Why must you make things so difficult?”
“Me? Difficult?” The Queen sneered. “Look where you stand, Iliana. The Court demands the truth.”
“The Court? Or you?”
“The humans have made you bitter, child.”
“And your fake court has made you a tyrant.”
“Still, the Court demands the truth.”
“And the Court shall get it, even if I have to tell the story myself.” A bent figure stepped out of the crowd. She threw her cowl back and smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant one.
“You!” Ivy exclaimed at the same moment the Queen asked, “Who are you?”
The old crone’s smile grew wider, a predatory look creeping into the way she looked at them. “Where I am from, I am called Baba Yaga. Now sit down, young ones, and listen to me.”