A Place Beyond The Map

by Samuel Thews

  He could not make out the words they spoke, for their voices were quiet and hushed, and they spoke quickly. But their voices became more rapid and their pitches rose until a sharp word from the second pixie brought silence to the cavern. A soft fluttering of wings announced Mariella’s return.

  “He has gone to fetch the Mother,” she said, her voice quiet.

  “Why?” Phinnegan ventured, but he was met with only silence. He felt quite vulnerable sitting there, with this small, fantastic creature in a cavern in an unknown world and with an enchantment upon him so that he could not see. Phinnegan shifted his position on the cavern’s floor, drawing himself into a smaller presence.

  “Here she comes,” Mariella muttered. Within a moment or two, there could be heard quite the commotion coming from the same direction from which Mariella had just returned. Multiple voices chattered excitedly, with one louder and more discernable than the rest.

  “The nerve of that girl! Bringing an outsider, here, to our home. Why, it borders on treason. A Faë would be bad enough. They are tricksters and crooks but they are magical and understand us…humans on the other hand, why…it is treason. I’ll have her flogged with the whiskers of a rat! I’ll…” the voice, which had been growing louder, stopped abruptly. There was a sudden chill in the air and the perspiration on Phinnegan’s brow turned cool as it trickled down his cheek.

  “MARIELLA!” the Mother’s voice thundered.

  “How DARE you bring an outsider to our home. And a human no less!” An angry flutter signaled the approach of the Mother, and then her voice came from just behind Phinnegan’s right ear.

  “Humans are dirty,” her voice came in a hissing whisper. “They smell of smoke and fat, their greed floats around them like a pack of flies. Even now he plots to steal from us, to rob of us. Look! See how he fidgets so? A sign of treachery!”

  “I don’t –“

  “SILENCE!” the Mother’s voice screeched, cutting off Phinnegan as he tried to speak. “Do not speak to me! You will utter not a word unless I permit it, otherwise I will turn you into dust where you stand. Do you hear me?”

  Phinnegan could only nod.

  “Good. We have promised not to harm humans if at all possible, but your presence here strains my oath.” There was a pause and then her voice began again, but not as near to him.

  “And you, Daughter. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Mother, he was lost –“

  “Lost? More likely searching for this very passage to which you have brought him. At least you had the good sense to blind him. Yet what you have done is beyond some small error. It is criminal. High Treason against my throne. I’m afraid there is only one punishment that suits such a crime. Banishment.”

  The collective gasp from dozens of tiny lungs from all directions was the first clue for Phinnegan that a great number of pixies had gathered around him. Now, they muttered in hushed but excited voices.

  “Banishment?” Mariella’s voice said in a hoarse whisper. “Banishment? But I must explain myself, Mother. I led him here because-“

  “We do not lead anyone, anywhere, save to keep them away from our vale. You have done the exact opposite!” the Mother cried. “It is terrible, this crime you have committed. Never in a thousand years or more has someone dared to do such a thing.”

  “Mother, please. He was in the Winding Wood.”

  “The Winding Wood,” several voices exclaimed while others squeaked and piled their exclamations atop one another.

  “The forest!”

  “A human in the Winding Wood? Impossible.”

  “Only criminals are found there!”

  “Then he must be a criminal! Thief!”

  “Quiet, the lot of you,” the Mother snapped sharply. Once again an angry flutter belied her presence just behind his ear.

  “It is true what they say. The Winding Wood is unknown and unknowable to all save a few creatures. It is a place where Faë and human alike would wander until the end of time. It is a prison. There are only a few ways by which a person comes to be in the Winding Wood. Some are worse than others, and none are good. How did you come to the forest?”

  “I…don’t know,” Phinnegan managed to speak from a throat that was dry and hoarse. “I was simply…there.” None of the pixies around him uttered a sound, but the flutter of wings could be heard still, just behind his ears.

  “Suddenly, was it? Did you touch a Will o’ the Wisp?” the Mother’s voice came in a stern whisper. He heard a hushed murmur flow like a waver through the pixies in the cavern.

  “A what?” he asked.

  “A Will o’ the Wisp.

  “No…no. I don’t think so.” A sigh of relief emanated from the crowd of pixies. Even the Mother seemed to have calmed when she spoke.

  “Ah, that is good then. There is no more foul or sinister a deed than that which summons one to the Winding Wood by way of a Will o’ the Wisp. Still, other ways can tell of –“

  “Yes, you did,” Phinnegan heard Mariella mumble softly from some short distance away. The pixies drew in a collective breath.

  “What did you say?” the Mother asked, in a voice that was quiet but icy flat, a hint of fear barely detectable.

  “He did touch a Will o’ the Wisp,” Mariella said more loudly, causing a commotion among the pixies.

  “Quiet,” the Mother snapped to the crowd before addressing Mariella.

  “Are you sure, daughter? This is vitally important. How could you know such a thing?”

  “I saw it,” Mariella said after a lengthy silence. “When I was leading him, I…I probed his memories.” Another gasp from the pixies within the cavern.

  “Daughter,” the Mother’s voice was strained. “You go too far! You not only bring a human here, but you violate his mind as well? How could you-“

  “He was trying to steal something that the Will o’ the Wisp was guarding,” Mariella interjected. He was caught. That is how he came to the Winding Wood.”

  Howard.

  The cavern was quiet for a moment, but soon the walls echoed the tiny voices shouting accusations.

  “Thief!”

  “Liar!”

  “What was he trying to steal?” The Mother’s question cut them all off short. When Mariella did not answer, the Mother repeated her question.

  “Mariella, what was he trying to steal?” There was still a pause before Mariella spoke.

  “The Great Stone.”

  The cavern erupted in chaos. Small voices shouted and yelled around him, some in surprise, and many in anger.

  “Silence! Silence, I say!” The tumult of voices lessened, but Phinnegan could sense the many pairs of small eyes that bore into him.

  “The Great Stone,” the Mother whispered, which began a fresh cascade of murmurs through the crowd of pixies, though it was not long lived.

  “You seek such power?” the Mother asked sternly, though her voice quavered. “Why? Do you plan to dominate our world?”

  The question was incredulous. Dominate their world?

  “Power? Dominate?” Phinnegan sputtered in alarm. “There must be some mistake, I only wanted to go home…”

  “Home?” the Mother asked.

  “Yes, with the Great Stone…I was…”

  “You have committed a serious crime, boy. It is no wonder you were sent to the Winding Wood. Mariella should have left you there, where you belonged!” The Mother’s voice had risen in volume until she shouted. When she resumed, her voice had regained its earlier composure.

  “The jurisdiction for this crime is beyond our means. Our duty is clear to me. As one of the esteemed races of this land, we must treat this attempted theft with the utmost seriousness. We must send for the guards of Féradoon.”

  At the mention of Phinnegan’s one-time prison, a deathly stillness passed over those present in the cavern.

  To Féradoon. To trial. To prison.

  “But Mother,” Mariella began, but she was cut off swiftly.

  �
��There are no buts my child. We must follow the law in this. They will know that it was one of us who led him from the Winding Wood, for no other race knows its secrets.”

  “But, he has-“

  “Mariella. Be still, now,” the Mother said. “Zephyr!” The flutter of wings could be heard as another pixie joined the Mother just behind Phinnegan.

  “Yes, Mother,” came a second voice, small and soft.

  “Fly to Féradoon at once. Inform them of everything you have just heard. Request that they send one of their gholems to take this…their prisoner.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Fly fast.”

  “Yes, Mother.” A rapid flutter of wings, and Phinnegan’s hopes were slipping away.

  “Mother,” Mariella began once more, but the icy voice interjected again.

  “Mariella! You have done enough for one day! Now, go to –“

  “Mother, you do not understand what you have just done!” Mariella said, her voice high pitched with alarm. Phinnegan felt a slight movement in his shirt pocket and then he heard Mariella’s voice from just in front of him.

  “Look,” she said. “He has a Warber.” The gasp that Phinnegan now heard was one not one of horror, but of genuine surprise and awe.

  “A Warber,” the Mother whispered. “How is this…possible?”

  “I don’t know,” Mariella said. “This is why I brought him.”

  “I see,” the Mother said.

  And then suddenly, Phinnegan could see.

  The light in the cave was dim and he was thankful for it, for even that dim light hurt his eyes. He blinked several times allowing his eyes to adjust to sight once again. As he blinked, he tried to take in his surroundings. The light in the cavern came from scatterings of mushrooms, some on rocks, some in holes, and others climbing the very walls. Each mushroom glowed with the brightness of a small candle, and together their luminescence filled the cavern with an eerie light.

  As he had suspected, the cavern was indeed filled with pixies. More than he could have even imagined. There were hundreds of tiny people spread out in all directions, some with spiked hair, others with long, and nearly all were scantily clad, with only an arm or leg covered with a random piece of lace or ribbon. Only one was completely clothed. Covered in white lace from neck to ankles, her silvery hair was in long curls down to her waist, with two delicately pointed ears sneaked out beneath the waves. She was no smaller or bigger than Mariella, but she was clearly much older. She could only be the Mother.

  “Zephyr?” she questioned, looking directly at Phinnegan, through she did not direct the question to him.

  “Gone, Mother. None of us here could ever hope to catch him. He is the fastest, after all.” The Mother nodded.

  “Then there is not much time,” she said, gesturing to Mariella. “He may not enter the vale. You must take him through the mountain pass to the other side.”

  Phinnegan’s brow furrowed.

  “Wait, I don’t understand –“

  “Leave this place,” the Mother cut him off.

  “But –“

  “Go!”

  Moments later, Phinnegan was jogging, trying to keep up with Mariella.

  “What happened? Why did she let me go? What is a Warber?”

  “You ask many questions, Phinnegan Qwyk,” the pixie responded absently. The two moved swiftly through the passage for several more minutes, but then Phinnegan began to tire and slowed to a walk. Having no other choice, the pixie slowed to match his pace.

  “A Warber is a token,” Mariella said at length. Phinnegan took two large steps to bring himself nearly beside her.

  “What sort of token?”

  “An ancient one. I had never seen one, until spying yours. We are all taught about them, of course, but I never thought…” she stopped, glancing at Phinnegan. “You must be a rare person, Phinnegan Qwyk.”

  “What does it mean, this token?”

  “Different Warbers mean different things. I don’t recognize the Mark on yours.”

  How could he have come to possess this Warber? He did not remember it being given to him. Curious, Phinnegan reached into his pocket and removed the Warber, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

  As he surveyed the symbol imprinted thereon, a most curious thing happened. The Warber disintegrated. He rubbed the dust between his fingers, which gave off a slight warmth and had a faint metallic odor. When he pulled his fingers apart, he noticed a darker smudge on his index finger. He rubbed it on his pants, but when he looked at it again, the smudge was still there only now it was defined.

  Now his fingertip bore the Mark.

  What just happened?

  He was so consumed with his thoughts that it was not for some time that he noticed they were no longer within the mountain pass, but had passed out onto a wider, gravely road between two grassy foothills. Two craggy tor perched high atop the hill to his right.

  “Where are we?” he asked absently, forgetting about the Mark on his finger. He squinted as he checked the sun’s position in the sky. Mid-morning? How long was I with the pixies?

  “We are nearing the border of our land.”

  “The border to what?”

  “The land of others, the land of the Unwanted.” She noticed his glance to the sun and sought to explain.

  “You have been passing through our lands for more than a day now. Though you have not slept, you will find that if you eat the berries from these bushes,” she pointed to several bushes on either sides of the gravely road that bore bright orange berries, “you will feel well rested. You will have no need of sleep until nightfall, but as the sun sets, your weariness will return and you must rest. Do you understand?” When Phinnegan nodded that he did, she continued.

  “Follow this path until you come to a fork. Go to the left. After an hour’s walk you will come to a single cottage against the mountain. There you will find someone who may help you.”

  “Who?”

  “We do not know his name. But he is old, and wise.” She glanced down at Phinnegan’s right hand.

  “I see the Warber has Marked you. He will know this sign.”

  “So you are not coming with me, then?”

  Mariella shook her head.

  “This is where I leave you. We do not travel past this, our southern border. We are not welcome here.”

  Phinnegan nodded.

  “Well, thank you. You’ve at least given me some hope.”

  The pixie smiled for the first time since she had seen the Warber fall from Phinnegan’s pocket.

  “You are most welcome,” she said sweetly, but then her smile vanished and her face became stern.

  “Now, do exactly as I say.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Nightfall

  Her instructions were brief but specific, and if she was to be believed, terribly important.

  Do not eat anything other than the orange berries.

  Do not stop until you reach the cottage.

  And above all else, do not stray from the path.

  This was the second time that Phinnegan had been admonished to stay on a path, the first being by Periwinkle Lark in Darkwater Forest.

  What is it with this place and paths?

  He had thanked her once more for her help, which he realized came only because he possessed the Warber. How he had come into possession of this ancient token still escaped him. Mariella had given him little information as to its meaning or purpose. Either way, he was grateful for it, as it had saved him a second, and likely much longer, visit to Féradoon. He shivered.

  Féradoon. Best not to think about it.

  But the final words of the pixie still weighed upon his mind.

  Remember, the Mother has already sent word to Féradoon. The gholem will come for you. Be careful, Phinnegan Qwyk. I sense that you are already followed by a shadow.

  He had seen a gholem once before, the great, ghost-like creature in the hall of Féradoon that was at the same time there, but not, appearing mor
e as a disturbance than a physical being.

  Phinnegan tried to push these thoughts from his mind. It was a futile effort. His eyes scanned the brush and the hillsides for any signs of disturbance, but he saw none. Of course not. It would take days for a gholem to reach him.

  Wouldn’t it?

  He shook his head, clearing it of such jumbled thoughts.

  The sun was beginning to descend now; it was early afternoon and he had left Mariella mid-morning. A few hours travelled already and he had not stopped once to eat or rest. He spied one of the bushes that bore the bright orange berries very close to the path not ten paces ahead, as good a place as any for a brief respite.

  When he reached the bush, Phinnegan stopped and began plucking the ripened berries, careful to keep his feet on the path. He popped the berries one by one into his mouth, crushing them against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, feeling their sweet-sour juices rush forth in an explosion of flavor - the citrusy tang of an orange with the rich sweetness of a blueberry, a splendid combination.

  As he had been told, the berries provided him with all the nourishment that he needed. He felt neither hungry nor thirsty after eating only a small handful, and his fatigue had vanished. When he had eaten his fill, he plucked a handful more and stuck them in his pocket. He had a few more hours of walking ahead of him and no assurances that any of these bushes would so opportunely present themselves.

  His pockets and stomach full, Phinnegan set out again down the path, which had gone from gravel to dirt with a scattering of pebbles. He looked back over his shoulder to the distance he had already covered. Just visible in the haze of distance was the span between the two grassy hills that led to the exit from the mountain passage. Mariella had warned him not to try and return to the lair of the pixies for an enchantment to ward off intruders would lead him in circles for hours on end.

  His only hope was to reach the old man and hope that he could help.

  Phinnegan had not given much thought to the old man, but this suddenly seemed of great importance. Just who was this old man? A human? An Aged, one of the Faë that had given up on the vibrant and colorful life that Periwinkle and his kin so enjoyed?