The Immortal Realm

by Frewin Jones

  Hollin gathered his robes, his eyes fixing on Tania for a moment before he turned away. The man clearly loathed her—but there was terror there, too. “Lord Aldritch shall learn of this!” Hollin said as he strode from the chamber, his acolytes following silent and obedient.

  “Don’t worry,” Tania shouted after him, “so will Oberon!”

  She crossed the room and crouched where Connor was sitting, grimacing and clutching his stomach.

  “Are you all right?”

  He winced. “I’ve been better.” He gave a weak smile. “No—I’m fine. Winded, that’s all. What’s a stick in the guts between friends?”

  “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

  “Forget it. I’ve been beaten up worse in a rugby scrum. Who were those guys? Ninjas?”

  “Come on, they’re gone now.” She drew him to his feet. He flinched and clutched his stomach, but she could see that he was more shocked than injured.

  She looked down for the injector. It had broken open on the floor and a foot had come down on it in the scuffle. The vial was cracked and the pale liquid had run out onto the floorboards. Cordelia would be getting no more antibiotics. Tania looked at her ailing sister. Bryn had come into the room and was at her side, holding her hand, kissing her fingers. The birds were perched all around them, even on her pillow and on his arms and shoulders.

  “She is no better,” Bryn said. “The Mortal medicines have failed.”

  “We don’t know that for sure yet,” said Tania.

  He looked up at her and there were tears in his eyes. “Do we not?”

  The earl marshal’s voice drew her attention away from the sickbed. “Princess Tania, it would seem that the Lord of Weir was right when he told the Conclave of Earls that you had gone into the Mortal World. I see from the outlandish clothes that you and your sister are wearing that you have indeed acted against the King’s command and crossed between the worlds.”

  “For the good, Uncle!” exclaimed Rathina. “For the good of all Faerie!”

  “Others shall determine that.” Cornelius looked grimly at Connor. “And you have brought another Mortal into Faerie with you! Who is this man?”

  “He’s a Healer,” Tania explained, but her Uncle’s severe expression filled her with remorse. “I thought he would be able to help.”

  “A Mortal Healer for a Mortal disease,” added Rathina.

  “And has he helped?” asked Cornelius. “Princess Cordelia does not wake nor grow less pale.” His eyes were piercing as he looked at Tania. “Did your peradventure in defiance of your father’s edict prove worthwhile, my lady?”

  Tania felt herself wilt under his gaze. He was right. She had defied Oberon to no good purpose. The only effects of her trip to London would be to turn more people against her and to rob her of her father’s trust. And worst of all her actions had left poor Connor stranded here for the rest of his life.

  “The antibiotics should have kicked in by now,” Connor said. “I don’t understand it.”

  Cornelius showed no sign that he’d even heard Connor. “You will come with me to the Chamber of the Conclave of Earls, my lady Princess,” he said. “To answer in full to the Conclave for your misdeeds.”

  “No!” Tania said. “If I’m going to be condemned, I want to hear it from the King and Queen themselves. Take me to my mother and father!”

  The earl marshal bowed his head. “As you wish,” he said. “The King is in the Throne Room and the Queen is with him. But do not expect clemency, my lady. Your deeds have rocked the very foundations of this Realm, and even for the daughter of the King such disobedience carries with it a high penalty.”

  As Tania walked down the long white carpet toward the throne, it felt as though the essence of the plague had seeped into the very walls of the room; even the air that she breathed seemed sickly and stale.

  The earl marshal strode at her side, and Rathina and Connor were only a pace behind.

  “Wow,” Connor whispered as they approached the King.

  Oberon sat deep in the throne, wrapped in white furs, his face drawn, his eyes glassy. Queen Titania was at his feet, one arm resting on his knees, her hand in his lap, her fingers twined with his. Her head was bowed as though she was lost in deep thought or weighed down under a heavy burden.

  Tania found herself trembling as she came close to the throne. It was not that she feared for herself, or for the King’s wrath, it was the worn-down cast of Oberon’s face that chilled her to the bone.

  She tried to remember how many days he must have been sleepless now. When had he first conjured the Gildensleep? On the deck of the Cloud Scudder—and that had been in the early morning three days ago. At the very least the King had not slept for over seventy hours.

  Tania paused before the throne, unspeaking.

  Titania sighed and looked up, her face gray with fatigue.

  “You have been to the Mortal World, Tania,” she said, her voice so quiet that Tania could hardly hear it. “I sensed it when you departed and again when you returned. Did you think a daughter could use her gift without her mother’s knowledge?” She turned her eyes to Connor. “And you brought a Mortal man here,” she said. “That was reckless and foolhardy. You could have done great harm.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. But I had to try….”

  “Princess Tania was discovered in Princess Cordelia’s bedchamber,” said the earl marshal. “The Mortal was with her, as was Princess Rathina. Had I not intervened, Master Hollin would have ordered Princess Tania thrown down the cliff face. He fears her greatly, your grace.”

  “Indeed?” An angry edge came into Titania’s voice. “That man takes much upon himself in the shadow of Weir’s patronage. Were I free to act, I would cast him out of the palace and the Realm of Faerie—but the Conclave of Earls has decreed he should be allowed to practice his skills, so I must forbear. For the moment.”

  “Father…how are you?” Tania asked the King.

  “Weary, as are we all,” murmured Oberon.

  “I give to him such strength as I have,” said Titania. “But the strain is great upon him. Sixty-three lives now lie cradled in the Gildensleep.” She looked again at Connor. “And you, boy, what good have you done for us and ours?”

  “I gave Cordelia some antibiotics,” Connor said, stammering a little. “The result was…disappointing. I can’t figure out why it hasn’t worked yet.”

  “Then I shall tell you, interloper,” called a harsh voice from the far end of the long room. Lord Aldritch stood there, a black cloak swathing his body. He strode down the carpet toward them. “It is because all things that come from the Mortal Realm are a poison and a bane to the people of Faerie!”

  Titania rose to her feet, her face clouded with ire. “You forget yourself, my lord,” she said in a low, threatening voice. “I spent five hundred years in the Mortal Realm. Am I then a poison and a bane to my people?”

  “Nay, your grace, I meant not so,” said Aldritch, circling Tania as though hating to be near her, and then bowing low before the Queen. “It is to the joy and beatitude of this Realm that you passed through your ordeal untainted. But your daughter has been corrupted; she is a danger to us all.” He stood erect. “The Conclave of Earls has decreed that she is to be sent forever from this Realm.”

  Titania’s eyes flashed with anger. “This decision was made without the King and I in attendance?”

  “It was,” said Aldritch. “You know the ancient protocols, your grace: although the King and Queen sit at the head of the Conclave, they have no vote and once in session, the earls have the right to make judgments alone.” He turned and bowed to Cornelius. “And even without you, my lord, there was a quorum.”

  “But how is she to be sent from Faerie?” asked the earl marshal. “The ways between the worlds are shut. The princess cannot return to the Mortal World.”

  “Indeed so,” cried Aldritch. “The King must banish her to Ynis Maw—there to dwell as an outcast for all time!”

  “He won’t do tha
t!” Tania shouted. “He would never do that to me!”

  Ynis Maw! She knew that terrible place only too well: a bleak, storm-wracked island off the northern coast of Faerie. Once Oberon had condemned you to that far-flung prison, there could be no hope of return.

  “I demand that the sentence be carried out,” said Aldritch. “The half-thing that was once Princess Tania must be cast from the Immortal Realm forever.” He gave Connor a sneering glance. “And this Mortal must either go with her or be destroyed at once.”

  Tania saw the blood drain from Connor’s face. “Hey, wait a minute!” he exclaimed in alarm. “I came here to help!”

  “Hush!” The voice was a deep rumble that seemed to rise from the floor beneath them, like the distant echo of tumbling mountains.

  It was the King. All eyes turned to the throne. Oberon’s head moved slowly, his glazed eyes shifting from one face to another.

  “Sire!” Aldritch dropped to one knee.

  “Why come you here to disturb our labors, my lord?” asked the King, his voice measured and low. “Do you not know that many lives hang in the balance?”

  “I do, sire,” said Aldritch. “Indeed the lives of all who dwell in your blessed Realm are at risk if the will of the Conclave of Earls is not fulfilled.”

  “So my daughter is to be banished,” rumbled the King. “Is that the will of the earls?”

  “It is, sire.”

  Titania grasped Oberon’s hand in both of hers. “My lord, do not do this terrible thing,” she said. “Not banishment. It is undeserved. Tania has done no wrong, and the Conclave of Earls acts out of fear, not justice.”

  “Would you have me disregard the ancient laws?” asked the King.

  “No, my lord, but I would have you temper the law with mercy. Do not banish Tania. Punish her, if need be, but do not send her away from us. I yearned to have her with me for five hundred years of exile. Do not take her from me now.”

  “And what of the Mortal?” asked Oberon, his eyes flickering toward Connor. “Even were I to show clemency to our daughter, he could not be left to roam at will.”

  “An amber prison would prevent him from doing harm,” said the earl marshal.

  Connor stared at the King, his face confused and frightened. “A what?”

  “No!” gasped Tania. “You can’t do that! I talked him into coming here; he only wanted to help.”

  If the earl marshal’s suggestion was followed, then Connor would be trapped motionless but alive, sleepless and aware, for all eternity in a globe of amber light, hidden away in the dungeons of the Royal Palace.

  No way would she let that happen to him!

  Rathina knelt at her father’s feet. “I have been in the Mortal World, Father,” she said. “It is a strange and uncanny place, but I do not think it is a threat to us.”

  “This is madness!” said Aldritch, rising. “The princess is bewitched! Has the coming of the plague not taught us to shun the Mortal World?”

  “Indeed it has,” said Cornelius. “But the plague is confined to the palace for now—and if fortune favors us, it will travel no further, even if all within are consumed by it.”

  Titania’s head suddenly snapped up, her eyes glittering. “Something comes!” she cried, turning to face a tall clear-glass window that filled the wall behind the ermine awnings of the throne.

  Tania saw a small bright shape moving bullet-fast toward the window. There was a crash, and the window turned to splintered frost as the thing burst through the glass and came hurtling down toward them.

  It all happened so quickly that Tania hardly had time to register what the object was before it hit the floor in an eruption of red fire and flying sparks—but she saw a flaming comet with a white-hot human figure at its core.

  They all fell back from the leaping flames, Aldritch throwing his cloak over his face, Rathina bowled helplessly across the floor. Tania flung herself sideways, grabbing Connor and hurling him onto his back. Cornelius and the Queen moved together to protect the King.

  The flames roared, but they gave out no heat. Tania sat up, her hand shielding her eyes from the brightness. At the heart of the fire a female figure stood upright upon the white carpet. She stepped out of the flames, dressed in a gown of deepest purple. Her face was made ruddy by the light of the fire; flames still flickered in her snow-white hair.

  “Eden!” cried Titania. “My daughter—whence come you?”

  Now Tania understood: Eden had called on her Mystic Arts to travel swiftly across Faerie on the horse of air—as Oberon had done when he had transported Tania and her Mortal parents to Bonwn Tyr.

  Tania got to her feet. The flames had died away at Eden’s back, leaving no sign of scorching on the long white carpet.

  “I bear great and terrible tidings!” Eden declared. She walked to the throne and knelt at her father’s feet. “My lord King, the plague rampages throughout the Immortal Realm. I have seen it! All of Faerie suffers. The sickness is everywhere!”

  “No!” gasped Titania. “By all the spirits, Eden, no!”

  For the first time ever Tania heard real fear in the King’s voice. “You say you have seen it, my daughter?” he asked, leaning forward, his fingers gripping the arms of the throne. “What have you seen? Speak quickly, child.”

  “I departed this place in bird form yesterday,” said Eden. “I meant to fly to the palace and seek in Sancha’s library for answers to this plague.”

  “And did you find what you sought?” interrupted Rathina.

  “Aye, I think mayhap I did!” said Eden solemnly. “But I found more. I found that the plague was rife in the palace. Some few had already died and many were ill. But worse news was to come! They told me that travelers had been arriving for several days—and that most were sick and in search of healing.” Eden paused for a moment. “I reverted to bird form, this time taking on the shape of a peregrine falcon so that I could traverse the miles more swiftly. And I saw such horrors! In every town and village I visited our people were suffering.”

  She stood up, lifting her hand high and making a slow, sweeping gesture. Where her arm passed, the air flickered and an oval of white light opened with ragged, sparking edges.

  “Behold the Mirror of the Falcon’s Eye!” said Eden.

  Tania gasped as a scene appeared in the floating oval disc.

  It was a village of thatched cottages and stone-built houses. But something was wrong. Some of the houses were on fire, the thatched roofs burning with a pall of thick black smoke, flames gouting from windows and doors. The earthen streets were deserted save for a few people wrapped in thick cloaks, their faces masked against the smog. They were pulling handcarts along.

  Rathina let out a cry of dismay, her hands coming to her face.

  The carts were full of corpses.

  Titania watched, horror-struck.

  “How did I not know of this?” The King gasped. “What mischief has shrouded my soul from the anguish of my people?”

  “They burn the plague houses in their terror,” said Eden. “The dead are left alone on hilltops to make the journey to Albion without rite or ceremony. The sick are locked away or cast out of their homes. All of Faerie is in turmoil!”

  “And while Faerie is ravaged by this Mortal devilry, we debate still over the fate of its progenitor!” shouted Aldritch, pointing at Tania. “Rid us of this thing, sire. Send her to Ynis Maw!”

  “No!” Eden cried. “This blight is not of Tania’s doing!”

  “How do you know this?” asked Cornelius. “Do you have proof?”

  “I do,” said Eden, her eyes turning compassionately to Tania. “Your Mortal father did not bring this illness into Faerie, Tania,” she said. She gestured toward the dreadful image that hung above them. “You see before you the village of Karkenmowr. It lies beyond the River Dwan in the north of Minnith Bannwg. The plague has been stalking this and many another northern village for days now. And it has taken hold in the west and the east, too.” She made a flicking gesture of her ha
nd and the vision vanished.

  “This is no Mortal disease,” she said. “The plague has swept over the length and breadth of this land in but a few days.” Her eyes glowed like blue fire. “This sickness has not been visited upon us from some other Realm. The plague is a thing of this world!”

  “The disease didn’t come from Earth!” said Connor. He stared at Tania. “I let myself be trapped in this madhouse for nothing!”

  Tania could hardly grasp what Eden was saying. After everything they told me, after everything they made me believe, the disease has nothing to do with me or my parents?

  “That is not possible!” declared Lord Aldritch. “Not in ten thousand years has such sickness erupted in Faerie!”

  “I said not that it came from within Faerie, my lord,” Eden responded. “But there can be no doubt that an ill wind of this world has blown it to our fair shores.”

  “Blown on an ill wind, you say?” asked Cornelius. “But from whence?”

  “That I cannot say,” said Eden.

  “No!” demanded Aldritch. “I will not believe such a thing!” His eyes glittered dangerously. “Princess Eden seeks to absolve her sister of blame. Had the plague been already in Weir, I would have known of it.”

  “You departed Caer Liel ere it struck,” said Eden. “Had you remained in your stronghold but half a day longer, you would have felt its evil breath upon your neck, my lord. And had you not traveled the straight road south, doubtless you would have heard the lamentations of its victims in many a hamlet and village upon the way.”

  “And still I say you forswear yourself so that the escutcheon of the House of Aurealis should bear no smirch!” shouted Aldritch. “Sire, how do you countenance such falsehoods!”

  The King didn’t reply. Tania looked at him; he seemed stunned by Eden’s fearful vision, his face pale, his eyes unseeing.

  “How did I not know?” he murmured. “How could I not know?”

  “I believe that the same dark force that brought this evil upon us has also worked to blind you to its progress, Father,” said Eden.

  “A dark force, indeed!” cried Aldritch. “I see the dark force.” He pointed at Tania. “It stands before me. Do not be deceived, sire. The Princess Eden seeks to protect the half-thing with her lies! Mayhap they work this malevolence together. Mayhap they—”