by John Conroe
“Our wayward friends have returned to us, safe and sound,” Lentin announced in a booming voice and the entire assemblage stomped their left feet three times in greeting.
Her father stood tall and straight, looking relaxed and comfortable in front of virtually the entire community. “I can smell Lottie’s cooking and hear stomachs rumbling from here, so I suspect we best get on with the telling of our tale afore we’re met with violence,” Armond said.
“You mean you can smell the suds on Dorian’s Stumbler’s Stout and hear the taps running,” Old Kenny Witterstock called out, causing much laughter.
Armond coughed several times. “Sorry, I find my speaking voice shutting down from all the salt air at sea,” he said. Dorian Stumbler, the innkeeper and brewmaster, stepped up and handed him a big clay mug with a foaming white head on top, and her father quaffed deeply from it.
“Ahh, much better. So… what do you all want to talk about? The price of witchwood? The demand for Devil’s crab?”
“Tell us about the Realm Holder, ya cog,” Mitt Rolly growled from his seat at the bar. The crowd echoed his request.
“Oh, him. Nice enough sort, but did ya know they’re getting fifteen silver more for your furniture than two months ago?” Armond asked.
“Always the showman,” Lottie Stumbler, the innkeeper’s wife said. “Just tell us if we’ve got anything to fear from this new Lord of the Land.” The room instantly quieted, faces going serious.
Her father nodded, his flippant manner stilling into calm thoughtfulness. “You don’t. Any of you. He’s not our enemy and thank the goddess for that,” he said.
Dorian brought him a stool but Armond held it out for Nira to sit on before taking a second stool that the constable handed him. “Let’s get to it then. We can either tell you of our journey first and answer questions after or just answer the questions now?”
“How about a few choice questions and then have you tell us the whole of it?” Lentin suggested.
“That’s fine. What would ye want to know then?”
“Well, what’s he like?” Mitt called out.
“He’s young, very young. Maybe twenty or so seasons under his belt. Mostly quiet and unassuming. You could walk right past him in a crowd and not realize he was even there.”
“We heard he stood off the Queens?” someone Nira couldn’t see yelled out.
“Oh, he did that and a dragon to boot,” her father said. “He and his lady have faced down the Winter Queen’s Black Frost twice and won both times.”
“A lad that young?” Lottie asked.
“When you look into his eyes, he doesn’t seem all that young anymore.”
“What’s his lady like?” someone else asked.
“That one you would never walk past without seeing, eh, Nira?” Armond turned to her, eyebrow up.
Recognizing her cue, she cleared her throat and spoke. “Lady Stacia has hair white as the crest of a wind-driven wave. Her eyes are the green of our fair island’s forests and her skin is tan like a fisherman’s but smooth and wrinkle-free. She’s a little taller than myself, strong and lithe like a dancer. She’s also beastkin.”
The room instantly hummed with a hundred shocked responses, the noise rising until Armond held up one hand, which dropped the hum to a dull buzz.
“My daughter has much to learn about the telling of stories. To say the Lady Stacia is beastkin is like saying that Lottie’s crab chowder is soup. She turns to a giant white wolf.”
“And a cross,” Nira said quietly.
“What’s that, Nira?” Dorian asked loudly, which caused a hush.
Nervously, she sat up straight like her father had said to. “She also changes to a cross between woman and wolf. Very large. Stands on two legs. She says it’s her favored combat form.”
The room quieted completely at the word combat. Nira very carefully kept her eyes roving, avoiding looking at her very probably ex-best friend and ex-best beau.
“You saw this?” Kuldennie asked after a few moments of silence.
“I did,” she responded.
“The lord and lady took a shine to Nira,” Armond said. “The residents of Idiria do not know what to make of the Realm Holder or his… wife?” He turned the last part into a question for Nira.
“Mate. Like wolves,” Nira said.
“Anyway, the residents are fearful of the Holder and his… mate, although they don’t seem to threaten anyone. Basically, Idiria is afraid of the Queens, who’ve attacked multiple times and been beaten back. For now, there is a bit of a truce. But my point is that Idiria doesn’t exactly embrace them and they don’t seem to want to embrace their power. When they’re in Idiria, which isn’t all that often, they seemed to really enjoy talking to Nira. And when Lord Declan was attending to matters of the Realm, Lady Stacia would often choose Nira to keep her company. Which makes sense, as fifteen is closer to twenty than forty is.”
“Twenty-one, Papa. Declan is twenty-one. Stacia is about a year or so older.”
“You are on first names with the Holders of the Middle Realm?” Lentin asked, astounded.
“They don’t like it when I use their titles. For all his power, Lord Declan would just as soon not be a lord.”
“And he’s got power like all that?” one of the crab boat owners, Bailey Fost, asked.
“He has power beyond all that,” her father answered. “The day we arrived, his Idirian aide, an elf named Stocan, met us and brought us right to their apartments. Inside, he introduces us to this young man and his beautiful lady. The lord immediately goes and gets the chair that I made that started all this and begins asking me all about the tree it came from. Far from being put off by witchwood like the Queens are rumored to be, he loves the stuff. Has a tree of his own back on Old Earth. Anyway, he asks me how much money it will cost to build everything he wants. I was caught off guard, but I threw out a ridiculous number.”
“Sure ya was caught off guard,” Old Kenny snorted to some nervous laughter.
Her father grinned and kept going. “The elf had the most pained expression on his face, which our young lord noticed instantly. Don’t worry, Stocan, he says, I won’t ask the city to pay for it. Then he squats down and touches the ground. We’re standing in a courtyard in his apartment, you see, all full of plants and things living in real dirt. He brushes the ground, then stands up and asks if we want anything to drink. Serves us fruit juice with his own hands. I no sooner take a sip and suddenly the ground around us shakes. Then the dirt by his feet opens and a lump of gold as big as Kuldennie’s fist rises right up out of the ground. He scoops it up, holds it in his hands and it just sorta… falls apart. Next thing ya know, it has sort of rearranged itself, becoming a stack of coins.” Her father reached into a pocket and pulled out a gold coin, holding it up for all to see.
“A wolf’s head on one side and a witchwood tree on the other,” Armond announced, turning the coin. “That’s how he feels about what we grow here.”
“Is it real gold?” “Is it plated lead?” “How much does it weigh?” voices yelled out.
“It’s solid gold… pure. He’s made a lot of them and the Idirians can’t get enough of them. Plus, they are each a tiny bit heavier than the Idirian jeel, so they’re even better.”
Nira couldn’t make out an individual single question amidst the uproar that his words caused. In fact, she had to cover both ears, it got so loud.
“HERE NOW!” Lentin bellowed, silencing the crowd. “Where are your manners?”
“Where indeed, Lentin Cobblink?” Lottie asked. “We’ve not even offered them food after a long journey. Armond, you and Nira sit here at this front table—it’s time for soup,” she said in a manner that settled the matter right then and there.
“Well, Idiria has a great many things, but it doesn’t have Lottie Stumbler’s famous devil crab chowder,” her father said, moving to the new seat. Nira was placed next to her father with the towering Kuldennie on her left, while Headman Cobblink sat on Armond’s
right.
“Mayhaps they could tell us a bit while we all eat?” Bett Sounder suggested to Lottie. As they were best friends from before time began, Lottie agreed with a nod, setting bowls of chowder in front of Nira and Armond. Other servers set big kettles of the rich soup on the trestle tables and whoever was closest got the job of ladling out bowls of it.
“Oh Lottie, this is amazing stuff, this is,” Armond said after his first spoonful. “Let’s see. I guess I’ll begin at the beginning. The sea travel to the mainland was normal,” he said with the nonchalance of someone who grew up on and around the ocean. “From there, we were taken by an elven coach to the city.”
“Pulled by steeds?” Mitt Rolly asked.
“Aye, four great black ones. It was the city’s own coach too.”
“Did ya share it with anyone of import?” Bailey Fost asked.
“No, we didn’t share it at all. We were the only riders,” her father said. Had he puffed up and bragged it was sent just for him and Nira, the town’s feathers would have surely been ruffled, Nira knew. Instead, they all just gaped as he went on without additional comment.
“It took most of the day to get to the city, but we arrived just at dusk. From there, it was like I said. We were taken to the lord and lady, made our bargain, and were then shown to where we would be staying.”
“Did ya have to rent rooms?” a voice Nira couldn’t identify called out.
“No, they put us up in a set of rooms not far from his lordship’s suite. Anyway, from there, it was basically drawing designs, running them by the lord and lady, and making furniture. I had a decent workshop to use and Nira helped me when I needed an extra set of hands, as did many of you when I sent instructions. But it was pretty straightforward. We cooked our own meals, but we ate out a bit too.”
Nira couldn’t help a slight snort, which made her father grin. “Okay, maybe we ate out more than a bit. But that was mostly it—at least for me,” he said with a sly look her way.
Feeling a slight flush on cheeks but calmer than before (maybe due to the simmering anger she felt toward the couple she refused to look at), she swallowed her mouthful of soup and took up the tale.
“As Father said, the lord and lady were not around much of the time. They spend most of their time on Old Earth.”
“How can they do that, and why do they?” Bett Sounder asked. Nira was very used to Lottie and Bett and the other senior women of the village so she hardly blushed at all, despite their formidable natures.
“Lord Declan can open portals as he wills and as to the why of it, well, they don’t feel welcome, don’t want to fight with the Queens all the time, and are busy on Earth preparing for a war,” she said.
She had their undivided attention. “Ah, did you say war?” Lentin asked.
“Old Earth has come to the attention of the Others,” Armond said quietly.
The silence lasted for three whole spoonfuls of soup.
“They don’t have anyone like the Queens,” Kuldennie said.
“Nira?” her father prompted.
“The Old Earth has Lord Declan and a group of people he says are just as skilled and dangerous as he is, plus something called Omega.”
“It’s a machine, dear,” her father said. “Old Earth has machines in place of magic, and this Omega machine is something that apparently even the Queens of Summer and Winter are wary of.”
“Well, it sounds as if we won’t have a Realm Holder for long,” Mitt Rolly said.
“And I would take that bet and raise ya,” her father said. “You’ve not met this lad, Mitt. I’d caution you to wait till you do before jumping to your conclusions.”
“Well I’ll never be meeting him then so it’s not even a thing for me to consider,” Mitt answered.
“I’ll take that bet,” her father said with a slight smile.
“He’s coming here?” Len asked, a hitch in his voice.
“Aye, I would say he is. Not sure when but as I’ve been saying all along – he loves witchwood,” Armond said.
“But what more could he want it for?” Dorian asked.
“Well now we didn’t make it to that part of the story yet,” Armond said with a wink at his daughter.
She cleared her throat again, although she’d stopped flushing at this point. “He enchants it.”
“He what?” old Kenny asked.
“He enchants all the witchwood. Every piece of furniture that papa made has already been spelled,” Nira said. She could see the questions forming on their faces, so she just pushed ahead. “I asked Lady Stacia about it. She said he’s a witch. They are always preparing things for what may come. There’s an old saying to never attack a witch in their home. He’s making this home ready if and when the Queens come again.”
“What kind of spells?” Lottie asked.
“The original chair papa made will come alive and attack an intruder just like Mr. Marley’s hunting hounds will attack a hog,” she said, nodding toward the old hunter who rarely said two words.
“But what’s he going to do here, if he’s got a whole apartment of hound furniture?” Bett asked.
“He wants raw wood to take back to Old Earth,” her father said. “Says our witchwood is saturated in power. He can make weapons with it against the Others.”
“He turns witchwood into weapons?” Kuldennie asked. “Why don’t the Queens do that?”
“He says they mostly just use it for something he called a battery,” Nira said. “To store their power. But he does a whole lot more with it, plus humans like us don’t mind touching it. The Queens and their people do not like it.”
“When is he coming?” Lentin asked, his round face pale.
“Not for some time,” her dad said. “He and his lady have gone back to their own world. But probably before summer’s out. Like I said, we have nothing to worry about. I know what he wants, and we can have it ready for him. He’ll pay well for it and in fact, he gave me a down payment for the village to share.”
The servers brought out fresh-baked bread with butter and the inn’s occupants settled into their dinner, the dull buzz of side conversations calming Nira’s nerves.
She was tired of the attention, as exciting as it had been, and ready to see their home again. The adventure had been grand, but she missed her own room and her own soft bed. After about fifteen minutes of steady eating, a question finally floated up from the crowd.
“Is that all of it then?” Old Kenny asked.
“It’s most of it, at least for me. Nira has one tale to tell though, right, daughter?” Armond asked.
She knew immediately what he wanted from her, but she took a second to eat one more spoonful while she gathered her thoughts.
“Lady Stacia asked me several times to accompany her out into the city. Lord Declan was observing the city council’s meeting and she was bored. She wanted to see what kind of wares were available, things she could bring back to Earth as gifts. We headed into the central market area and shopped for gifts.”
“What kind of things did she buy?” Lottie asked.
“Clothing—mainly scarves and shawls for her lady friends. She really seems to like spidersilk items. It’s apparently quite different from what is available on Old Earth. For her male friends, she bought tools or blades. She was very interested in the gray blades—called it titinnum, no… ti-tanium. Says the elves put edges on it that she’s never seen done on Earth. And for his lordship’s aunt, who is his only family, as his mother has passed like my own, she acquired a set of elven rune stones. It seems the aunt is a great witch as well, one with a gift for prophecy. Which is maybe ironic, as it was this last gift that caused the issue that day.” Nira paused and took a sip of the cold water in her clay mug, taking her time, as her father had told her many times.
The crowd was hanging on her words and she was starting to maybe get a little more comfortable with the telling of stories.
“We found the stones at a little booth, deep in the back of the markets. She haggle
d a bit for them and paid for them. She was very excited by this find, as it seems the aunt is difficult to buy for. She asked if I would like to stop for lunch and I had no objection. Some of the food around the market is truly wonderful, as Papa will attest,” she said, shooting her own sly look at her father and earning some general laughter. “We went to cross the road to get to the restaurant when suddenly a small coach pulled by a single steed came racing through, far too fast. A beggar boy was caught out in the street and Lady Stacia never hesitated. She was just suddenly gone from my side, somehow out in the street, facing down the massive steed. Like I said, she’s not a large woman at all, and she looked terribly small in front of that thing as it bore down on her. I’ve heard people say that time seems to slow in those moments and now I know what they mean. It was like a rogue wave crashing down on an unlucky beachcomber. But then the lady growled.”
“Growled? You say she growled?” Bett asked.
“Like the biggest wolf you’ve never seen,” Nira said. “And that steed pulled to a stop like its very life depended on it. Which, in that moment, I am absolutely certain it did. The coach slammed to a standstill and a moment later, the owner, an elf merchant of some kind, came barreling out like a maddened reaver hornet. Three bodyguards followed him as he set to cursing out the Lady of the Realm.”
Her audience was completely aghast at the image, and she almost smiled to herself. A glance across at Keply and Nattle showed them just as deeply invested in the story as everyone else.
“You see, he didn’t know who she was. Most of Idiria has never seen her, or even his lordship. They’re very private and, as Papa said, they don’t spend much time here on Fairie. So here he is cursing the Lady Stacia and doesn’t she curse him right back. Lights right into him like Lottie with a drunken sailor at closing time. He turns to his guards and tells them to clear the road of rabble, meaning her. They start forward and doesn’t she growl a second time. Deeper. A growl that is almost too low to hear but instead you sort of feel it in your bones and you just know that you’re about to die. And her hands changed. Small delicate fingers became great hooked claws and her eyes turned yellow.”