The War of Odds

by Linell Jeppsen

  “When did Nate get so cute?” She asked mischievously. “I mean, I always thought he was a cutie, but he was a dork for so long, it takes me by surprise, sometimes, when I see him now.”

  Chloe saw the look of fear and confusion on her friends face and gave Sara a hug. “Oh, don’t you worry, sweetie. I’m not trying to get my hooks in him now… really! He is head over heels for you- anyone can see that and I, for one, couldn’t be happier.”

  Sara smiled and gave Chloe a hug. Tears filled her eyes; she had been so lucky when these two young people showed up in her life, first for their offers of simple friendship and now, as her most staunch and loyal supporters. She squeezed her friend tightly and then they heard Rondel call out, “It’s almost time to go! Be dressed and ready to leave within the next quarter span, please.”

  The girls jumped up, and searching the shadows warily, squatted down to relieve themselves. Then they washed, cleaned their teeth and got dressed. Pike moved about the encampment, sprinkling a special powder over the signs of their presence in the tunnels. The powder would obliterate any sign of waste and help disguise their scent from anyone or anything, following in their wake.

  Joining the others by the fire, Sara and Chloe ate cold meat and washed it down with tepid tea. They listened to the Sasquatches speak with the two elves and Pike, the dwarf.

  “I’m almost sure that this tunnel will take us to the gates of Unseelie,” Pike argued. “It’s the long way around, yes, but do you prefer going back to where the bats lie in wait?” His voice was querulous with fear and aggravation.

  Rondel stared at the little red-haired dwarf. “I’m for seeing this journey come to an end. If we travel forward on this uncharted path, what’s to say we will not stumble across another nest of bats… or something worse?”

  “But, we are almost there,” Pike cried. “When did the elves become afraid of their own shadows?”

  Rowena bristled, and snarled, “Now, listen here, dwarf…”

  Onio cleared his throat, politely. “Forgive me, but I have a suggestion…” Glaring, all three debaters stopped shouting and looked up at the Sasquatch. Onio finished his tea and poured the dregs out on the cooling fire.

  “For generations, my people have traversed these tunnels. Although we normally don’t go this deep, we have learned a thing or two about some of the creatures that dwell here. You are not to blame for being unaware of the bats fear of open flame… why would you know, after all. We could go back the way we came, and chase those creatures away with our torches. Still…” he grinned at the dwarf, “I agree with Pike, that we should move forward.”

  Rondel opened his mouth to argue, but the Sasquatch held his hand up, “Let me finish, please.” Onio stopped smiling and his face darkened. “As I stated last night, things are becoming very bad for the fae… and also for the humans in their realm. Thousands are dying, while we dawdle, arguing over the course we must take.”

  Turning around and staring into the murky gloom of the Unseelie tunnels, he added, “I also think that the Unseelie court is no more than half a day’s walk. My brothers and I are strong- if you need assistance, we will be there to help.” The larger, hairier man-beasts growled, brandishing their long clubs and spears in the air.

  Rondel and his sister bowed their heads in agreement, while Pike stared up at Onio with admiration and gratitude. As if to make up for his momentary humility, however, Rondel barked, “We leave… now!”

  A few minutes later, they moved forward into a new tunnel. As always, the ambient light within the tunnel system glowed green and the shadows were thick. Nate decided to walk right behind the elves and the Sasquatches. He wanted to walk next to Sara, to hold her hand and whisper in her ear, but he already felt the knowing weight of Rondel’s gaze and refused to be reprimanded for acting like a love-struck idiot.

  They walked for an hour or two, keeping their progress as silent as possible. They were nervous after the mutant bat attack and did not want to be caught by surprise again. Suddenly, Onio stopped, holding a fist in the air. The group came to a halt, staring into the murk. Sara heart started to pound with dread as a horrible wailing set all the hairs on the back of her neck upright.

  Onio did not seem overly worried, however, and after a few seconds, he moved cautiously ahead. Following in the Sasquatches footsteps, the companions realized that the ghastly, moaning howls that echoed eerily through the tunnels, and sounded like a chorus of ghosts and ghouls, was actually the sorrowful weeping of one individual. Walking around a bend, they saw a middle-aged man sitting on a shelf of rock toward the back of a cavern. He was in his late forties or early fifties, and handsome with gray hair and heavy, sensuous features.

  He wore a splendid robe of dark green and purple velvet, and a golden crown of ivy leaves sat atop his salt and pepper curls. There was a quiver of arrows on his back, and a splendid sword with a hilt of gem-studded silver rested against the rock where he sat. His long nose was as red as a beet, however, and snot and tears dripped off his bearded chin. He hiccupped noisily and resumed weeping.

  Rondel and Rowena stood stock still for a moment, and then they both fell to one knee. “Your Highness!” they exclaimed in unison, bowing low before him.

  In answer, he threw back his head, and moaned in despair again. The elves exchanged a glance. His cries were so piercing, Sara felt like clapping her hands over her ears and screaming in sympathy.

  Pollo flew up off Hissaphat’s back and landed lightly on Sara’s shoulder. The cat grinned and sat down, licking his fur vigorously. Pike stepped backwards, as well.

  “That is Gwyn ap Nudd, Sara,” Pollo whispered in her ear. “He is king of the Great Hunt! I wonder why he grieves so…” the sprite scratched his ear in consternation.

  Hiss yawned and said, “A big drama king, I think. Gwyn is always upset over one thing or the other.”

  Pollo winced and flew back down to where the cat sat, bathing. “Sssh, Hiss! He’ll hear you and when the hunt resumes, you’ll be the next quarry!”

  Hiss rolled his eyes, but stopped talking. Pike started to say something, but grew still when another being hobbled out from behind a crevasse and joined Gwyn on his rock perch. It was an old, old woman. She was so ancient that her hair had turned into moss and her skin was as rough and cracked as the bark of a petrified tree. This time, the dwarf gasped. Falling to both knees, Pike scuttled ahead, touching his forehead to the stone floor.

  Even Hissaphat mewled deep in his throat, like a frightened kitten. The humans fell to the ground as well, sensing the great and terrible power within the crone who teetered up to the king of the hunt with a glass of tea in her palsied hand. “Here, here, sweetling, drink up now… you’ll feel better,” she rasped.

  The woman’s voice sounded like the screech of an off-key violin. In fact, William’s fiddle suddenly let out a discordant wail, as if in sympathy with the hag’s vocal chords. The ancient one lifted her head, and Sara saw that her eyes were as dead and blind as marbles. Her nose was as gnarled and twisted as a dead branch and every inch of her flesh was as warty as a frogs hide. Her toothless mouth fell open and her long pointed tongue quivered in the air, like a worm in early morning sunlight.

  “Who goes there?” she croaked.

  Sara kept her head down. She knew, somehow, that although the old woman may look and talk like somebodies elderly Aunt Sally; there was more- much more- to the figure who queried them now.

  Even Rondel looked nervous, but he spoke with calm authority. “My name is Rondel and this is my sister, Rowena. We travel with Onio, First Son of Bouldar’s Clan and his tribe mates, Pike the dwarf, William the bard, Pollo the sprite, and his friend Hissaphat, along with three young humans. We are making our way to Timaron’s court. May we apply for safe passage?”

  The hag turned her crooked proboscis toward the teenagers, “Humans? There are humans in my cave?” At these words, Gwyn let out another shout of sorrow. The elves, the dwarf, Nate and the Sasquatches slowly started backing away from the
hag. Within moments, the girls found themselves staring through a thicket of feet and legs.

  “Yes, Cerridwen, forgive our impertinence, but these humans are very special. We believe they can help stop the war,” Rondel replied softly, although there was an edge of steel now, in his words.

  Cerridwen, Sara thought back on her lessons with Muriel, the goddess of the underworld- a shape-shifter, and the mother of fertility. What would this powerful goddess want with them and why was she as ugly as sin? Sara remembered learning that Cerridwen was as beautiful as a summer’s day and fought over by kings of the underworld.

  The old woman snarled, “It has been long since I feasted on human flesh. I thank you for bringing them to me, elf!” The king let out another wail, and the Sasquatches hefted their clubs and spears.

  Rowena started to string her bow, but Rondel put his arm out to arrest her movement. Smiling, he turned to Cerridwen again. “Mighty witch, you never eat children, human or otherwise. Especially not little witches who only seek to help the fae in their time of need!”

  Exasperated, Cerridwen rolled her eyes and plopped down on the stone bench. Handing the cup to the man, she muttered, “Oh shut-up, Gwyn. You’ll make yourself ill!” She snapped her fingers, and Sara blinked in disbelief.

  Suddenly, the old hag transformed into a beautiful middle-aged woman. She had long, curly, light-brown hair and luminous brown eyes that shone with wisdom, and sorrow. She stared down at them with a half-smile on her face and said, “Well, get up then and let me look at you!”

  Crisis averted, apparently, they all got to their feet. The goddess said, “Yes, you shall have safe passage, but first I would have you rest and take refreshment. I would like to study this young witch and hear news of this terrible war.”

  She stoked her husband’s hair, while Gwyn wiped the tears from his face. “As you can see, this has been a hard time for us. My husband and I represent balance in all things, life and death, light and darkness, fertility and stagnation. There is no balance now, and it causes us pain.”

  “You shall rest here for a while, but before you leave for the Unseelie court, I would ask of you a boon…” she smiled, “after all, mayhap you will never come back out!”

  She paused for a moment and sighed, “I would have you dance for us. My husband and I are very sad, and we could use a lift.”

  Chapter 23

  Sara and her friends stayed with Cerridwen and Gwyn for a couple of hours. An army of large, ugly hobgoblins served a sumptuous feast. The teen’s eyes grew wide as the fierce creatures came out from behind a rocky outcropping, bearing dish after dish of delicious victuals. Usually, hobs were malicious and vindictive creatures that caused all manner of mischief in the human world, but these ones seemed gentle and kind. Nate stared wordlessly at Rondel who nodded permission. Faerie food could oft-times be fatal to human beings but this food, apparently, was safe for them to eat.

  Later, after lunch was served, Cerridwen asked for a dance. Sara had never been much of a dancer, but the Sasquatches seemed pleased and excited. One of the Sasq warriors, named Heavy Rock, fished around in his pack and pulled out a wide piece of hide. Onio and the other Sasquatches unfurled the leathery membrane and stretched it across the adjacent walls in one corner of the cave. Then, Heavy Rock took two sticks out and started beating on the taut skin.

  Within moments, percussive drumbeats filled the chamber. Sara’s toes tapped, the queen smiled and even her gloomy husband sat up straight and grinned. Chloe shouted, grabbed Nate’s hand and pulled him into an impromptu dance. William placed his fiddle under his chin and the instrument sang out a song that was so haunting, so primeval, Sara understood that this music was the voice of Earth herself, wailing both in joy and in sorrow for the things that had been, and things that were yet to come.

  Pollo and Pike joined hands and leapt around in circles, laughing, while Hissaphat purred violently. Sara eyed William, who swooped low and jumped high, all the while playing the violin that both blessed him with magic and used his frail body as a source of power. She hoped that the musical instrument knew when the strain was too much for the old man to bear.

  Suddenly a large hand grasped hers. “Little human, will you dance with me? This is a song of my people… a song of strength and perseverance.”

  Sara stared up at Onio and stuttered, “Okay, but I’m not a very good dancer.”

  He grinned and said, “You don’t have to be!”

  Then she danced with the faerie folk, the Sasquatches and her friends, in a deep, underground tunnel of the Unseelie court while war waged in the Seelie lands and the human realms above, and here in the Unseelie lands beneath the ground. It was cathartic though and Sara realized, suddenly… necessary. Glancing to her left, Sara saw her friend, Chloe, take Cerridwen’s hand and coax her out to where the others danced.

  The queen laughed, nodding, and turned around to coax her husband into the song, when suddenly the most horrible sound imaginable filled the air. The drumming stopped and William’s fiddle choked in mid-note and died. Sara and her friends stared about in horror as Cerridwen dashed a tear from her eye. William groaned and muttered, “Oh no…”

  All of the fae dropped their eyes and shuddered in despair as once again, Gwyn, the king of the hunt, hunched his shoulders, shaking with grief. Even the mighty Sasquatches were subdued. They quickly rolled up the hide drum and stowed it away in their packs. William wrapped the violin in a soft cloth and went to stand next to the Sasq warriors.

  Sara was astonished…what had just happened? Looking around for an explanation, the horrid, wailing cry filled their ears again. Cerridwen helped her husband to his feet. She had taken on the form of the old crone again, for some reason, and hobbled carefully by Gwyn’s side.

  She stopped and called out, “I am sorry but our time together has come to an end. My husband and I go to hide now, and we bid you farewell.” She paused for a moment, studying their faces, carefully. “For all I know, the banshee wails for me or my husband, but, just in case, I am very sorry for your loss.” Then, Cerridwen pulled her husband away into another deeper part of her cavern home.

  Sara understood, suddenly. She remembered how much she hated her lessons with Muriel, the wood nymph. Not only were her studies physically and emotionally exhausting, Sara had thought, at times, that her mind might crack with the strain of having to learn so much in such a short time. There were hundreds, possibly thousands of faeries in this world. All of them were different, with varying degrees of power that depended upon which element they served…air, water, fire or earth.

  One magical creature stayed the same for all beings, though, and was influenced by nothing and no one. Whether human or fae, Seelie or Unseelie, fire elemental or water faerie, the banshee wailed for the dead. The problem with a banshee’s cry was that the death she warned of was unstoppable. There could be no bargaining with this faerie, or stalling the inevitable.

  Nate and Chloe, apparently, remembered their lessons as well and walked up to where Sara stood with solemn, fear filled faces. The party was over and the companions gathered up their gear. Within moments, they were walking through Cerridwen’s cave and into a new tunnel. They stopped, though, and turned around when they heard a shout from behind them.

  A hob stood with two huge, slavering black dogs. They were hideous, with glowing red eyes and jaws that bristled with fangs. Their hides were scarred and steam puffed from their nostrils. Nate pushed the girls behind him, drawing his sword but Rondel said, “Be at peace, young warrior. These beasts mean us no harm, I think.”

  Nate glared as the hob bowed low, shouting, “My lady sends her regards and aid for you on your journey. These are her two favorite pets, the Hellhounds, Borax and Flamelick.” The large goblin stroked his hands over the fur on the hound’s chests and one of them ran a long, red tongue over the hobgoblin’s bony claw.

  “No one can know what is to come,” it continued. “But my queen hopes to keep, at least, some of you safe from harm.” With those
words, the hob backed away and the two terrible dogs padded toward them. To her utter astonishment, Sara saw Hissaphat approach one of the frightful beasts and touch noses with it.

  Rondel called out, “Please, thank your lady queen for us, Hob. This is a splendid gift, indeed…” The large faery had disappeared, however, and the two hounds moved toward the front of the line. Their ears were pinned back on their heads in concentration and their nostrils quivered inquisitively.

  Nate murmured, “This place is just…amazing.” The minstrel agreed and moved to walk in front of the girls. The girls took their places by Nate’s side, but he shook his head and added, “Please, move ahead of me, okay? I’m going to take up the rear.”

  Sara and Chloe nodded, and moved ahead of their friend. Sara wondered about the young man she had fallen in love with. His face was grave and tense with worry. She had no doubt, whatsoever, that he would fight to the death to protect her and the others. With a shudder, she wondered, yet again, if Pollo and the witch, Muriel, had chosen wisely, when they picked her to help heal the faerie king, Timaron.

  She gulped in fear. Which one of them was going to die today? Would it be her, or one of the elves, or would it be Nate or Chloe, the old man or the little sprite, Pollo? She felt Chloe take her hand and glancing down, Sara saw that her friend was frightened as well. It was terrible KNOWING that someone was going to die and not being able to do anything to stop it from happening.

  She sighed. Oh well, there is nothing I can do about it. Also, I can’t let myself get too scared, she thought, or I’ll be no good to anybody when they need me!

  The companions moved slowly through the shadowed tunnel. They walked without incident for about an hour, with only one stop. Onio held a hand up, looking back over his shoulder. The two Hellhounds turned around as well, their hackles raised and noses quivering in the air. The group paused, staring about with apprehension, and then the Sasquatch shrugged, turning forward again. Nate stared back from where they came for a moment longer and then followed his friends.