by Roz Marshall
Although she really didn't feel that safe. What with her horse taken away and her friend in Feyland lying dead on the ground, things had definitely been better.
I'll do some searching online tonight. She could check the forums and see if anyone else had things from Feyland appear. And then disappear.
I'm not sure if I want to know the answer, though. Either way it could be really weird.
-::-
Stifling a yawn, Corinne clicked the tablet off and put it on the bedside table, her mind whirling.
This whole day had been…freaky. Dreadful at times—like losing Ghost, and Elphin being savaged by the wolf—and just plain weird at others. Like when her bow had appeared in the VR booth. Or the atmosphere between her mother and father at dinner, which had got very strained after her father talked about how his next trip abroad would last over a week. This new job seemed to have him away from home more than he was back here in Scotland.
So they hadn't lingered in the restaurant after they'd finished eating. Which had given her plenty of time to scroll through the Feyland forums when she got home, and discover that her experience of the game was very different to most other players.
The majority of the threads were about how to solve the quests; about the best weapons to defeat a foe; or how to level up. Nothing about the Bright Court or goat-men or unicorns.
Perhaps the Scottish version was different. The Indian version certainly was—it had Pishaca, a type of demon that could feed on the energy exuded by people. The thought of meeting something like that made her skin crawl.
But she'd been uneasy to discover that she'd made a rookie error by telling Elphin and Urisk her real name. It turned out that in the faerie realm, knowing someone's true name gave you power over them.
She hoped she could trust Elphin—she and Ghost had saved him from the Wild Hunt, after all—but she wasn't quite so sure about Urisk the goat-man.
As she clicked off the light and burrowed under the covers, she decided that she'd have to be more careful what she said to other characters next time she was in the game. And maybe do some more research, so she didn't make any more stupid mistakes.
Because Corinne was getting the distinct impression that in her version of Feyland, mistakes could be very costly. Very costly indeed…
CHAPTER 3
THE BLOOD-RED text of the game titles shattered and spun into a whirlwind of tiny fragments. As always, a shiver ran down Corinne's spine at the sight of the creepy glowing eyes that finished the title sequence. But this time they reminded her of the red-eyed wolf that had savaged Elphin. Wriggling deeper into the sim chair, Corinne's heart was heavy. I'll be too late to save him. Too much time has passed.
She'd slept fitfully, worrying about Ghost, and worrying about Elphin. In her dreams, she'd seen him lying dead on the grass, the life-blood leaching out of him and his corpse motionless and cold.
And that was the problem. Ever since she'd started playing Feyland, her dreams had been worryingly realistic—and even more disturbingly, some of them had come true.
She'd dreamed of riding a unicorn, which had happened. She'd dreamed of being chased by the Wild Hunt, which had happened. She'd seen the intriguing minstrel from the Bright Court entombed in a wall of ice. She'd seen him being chased by a vicious white wolf. And now she'd had a dream—or a nightmare—of Elphin dying. Her mouth went dry. That's one dream I really don't want to come true.
But hopefully she wasn't too late to save him. She chewed her lip and let out a long breath. Or if she was too late, at least she could find his body. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. At least she could give him a decent burial.
The screen of her visor flared with golden light as the last notes of the introduction faded. Then her stomach lurched with the free-fall sensation that heralded her arrival into Feyland.
As she waited for the controls to respond to her instructions, she scrutinised her surroundings. Good. She was at the mushroom ring near Urisk's pool where she'd last seen Elphin. As soon as she could force her avatar's limbs to move she raced over to the spot near the bushes where she'd left him.
But he wasn't there.
The only evidence of his presence was some brown discolouration—blood—staining the grass where he'd lain. She scanned the clearing frantically. Surely he was too large for an animal to have dragged his body away?
Magic? Maybe.
The dull roar of the waterfall pricked the edge of her hearing, reminding her of Urisk, the strange creature who lived by the blue pool. Perhaps he would know what had happened to Elphin.
Settling her bow over her shoulder—for it had magically reappeared when she entered Feyland—she set off in the direction of the pool.
Moments later, the path opened onto the clearing beside the deep pool where she'd nearly drowned—twice—and been saved by Elphin.
Being scared of water and unable to swim wasn't a problem in real life, living in the centre of Scotland as she now did. But it had proved to be a problem here in Feyland. Who'd have thought that'd be a requirement for gaming? Must be able to solve problems, fight vicious wolves—and swim! Despite her worry for Elphin, she chuckled at the thought.
High above the pool, a stream fell over a rocky ledge and plunged as a dramatic waterfall to the pool below. Tall grasses surrounded the pool, interspersed with delicate blue forget-me-nots and sparkling with the glow of iridescent fireflies.
The pool drained to a wide stream that continued through the wood, and over by the stepping stones crouched a figure in a winter-white cloak, who had startled at the sound of Corinne's laugh. As she stood and turned towards Corinne, the game glitched and the stranger's appearance wavered like a ripple on a pond.
It was not the friend she was looking for, nor the goat-man Urisk that might help her. Instead, something about the newcomer reminded Corinne of the white witch in Narnia—perhaps it was her ornate white dress, overlaid with a lacy pattern reminiscent of hoar frost; perhaps it was the deathly-pale pallor of her skin, or perhaps the icy sheen of thick blue-white hair swept up onto the top of her head. But when she smiled, showing perfect white teeth between thin blue lips, her visage suddenly became more friendly. "Good morrow, young archer."
"Uh—hello."
The woman held out an elegant gloved hand. "May I introduce myself? I am Karlin. Methinks we have not met?"
Corinne was wary to take the stranger's hand. Last time she'd done that, she'd been tricked by a handsome kelpie who'd tried to drown her. For food. Who knew what this new character was after?
She gave a half-hearted wave instead. "Uh, no I don't think we have. I'm—" she paused, remembering the warnings about real names on the forums last night, "—Corrie."
"What brings you to the blue pool, young Corrie? Do you have a quest I can help you with?"
Surely it wouldn't do any harm to tell her? "I'm looking for my friend Elphin. Do you know him? Do you know where he is? Or what happened to him?" It all came out in a rush, worry for her friend overtaking the caution she felt on meeting this new character.
"Elphin? Ah, yes!" Karlin pointed across the pool, her gauzy sleeve catching the breeze. "He lives on the mountain."
The mountain. Of course, Urisk had told her she'd find Elphin on the faerie mountain, hadn't he? She'd been heading there when the kelpie had attacked her. Her hand twitched toward her bow at the thought.
Karlin smiled again. "Would you like me to take you there?"
That might be easier than stumbling around on my own. But can I trust her? Corinne chewed the inside of her cheek.
The smile had softened the contours of the woman's face, and she looked almost benign.
"Uh, o—"
Corinne's words were cut short as Karlin pulled herself up to her full height and clapped her hands.
Two huge white wolves emerged from the bushes, growling deep in their throats, one of them limping markedly. Corinne recognised him immediately. The wolf that attacked Elphin.
Her pulse started
to race, and sweat broke out on her forehead as she backed away. "I—it's okay." Her voice cracked. "I'll look for him myself."
Karlin's voice took an edge of steel. "No, we will take you to him." She motioned the wolves closer, their hackles raised and red eyes glowing.
They were backing Corinne towards the pool, cutting off any hope of escape—there was no Elphin to save her from drowning this time. Mind racing as she weighed up her options, she heard Phemie's voice as clearly as if the farmer was standing beside her. 'Stick up for yourself, lassie.'
Whisking the bow from her shoulder, Corinne swung to face the lead wolf. But before she could nock an arrow, Karlin pulled some faerie dust from her pouch and cast it in Corinne's direction.
In an instant Corinne was frozen in place. The cold started at her feet, icy tendrils encasing her legs, then racing up her body, pinning her arms and stilling her breath. Her last thought was that her dreams were coming true again, except that it was her, not the minstrel, who was entombed in ice, and that her vision was more of a nightmare than a dream-come-true…
-::-
Elphin ambled along the forest path, his belly full of Bright Court delicacies and his heart hopeful.
Ahead of him, his new master Urisk tripped and trotted on his cloven hooves. The goat-man's hairy legs gave him the appearance of wearing grey-brown pantaloons, but above the waist he had the head and chest of a bearded man.
Every now and then Urisk would stop and sniff at a bush or plant, or bend and pluck a leaf or a flower, wrinkling his nose at some and nodding sagely to himself at others.
It made for slow progress, but Elphin was happy to enjoy the walk, and the sense of relief at being released from service to the blue hag—even if he was not yet returned to the mortal world. And even if it meant that he was now in service to Urisk. Surely Urisk will be a kinder master than Cailleach?
He had a year to find out.
And a year to make Corinne fall in love with him.
If not, by the terms of the Bright King's judgement, at the end of his year with Urisk he would be returned to Cailleach's service rather than home to Scotland. His pleasant mood dimmed at that thought.
I would have preferred that the King assign me permanently to Urisk. But perhaps then the terms of his enchantment would have been void, and he'd be left with no opportunity to win his return to Scotland?
He paused, mulling that over, then took a deep breath and continued towards Urisk's cave at the blue pool. I will never know. I will just have to make the best of this for now.
And do the best he could to capture Corinne's heart.
CHAPTER 4
COLD. BLISTERING COLD, chattering her jaw, numbing her limbs and freezing the thoughts in her brain.
Where am I? And how did I get here? Corinne struggled to comprehend what had happened to her.
Every muscle in her body was cramped and sore, and it felt like she was inhaling permafrost, icy crystals lining her lungs and hoaring the insides of her nostrils. The breath shuddered in her chest. But if I can shiver, I should be able to move? With an effort of will, she pushed herself up from the icy shelf on which she lay and onto a trembling elbow.
It was dark, but not totally dark. An ephemeral glow flickered on silvery granite walls, and lit the sharp points of spindly stalactites that sprang menacingly from the ceiling like a forest of spears.
Persuading her muscles to un-spasm and pushing herself to sitting position seemed to take forever, but eventually Corinne sat, shaking with cold, on the rocky outcrop which had been her bed.
Ahead of her, near the entrance to the large cave, crouched two white wolves, their eyes wary and their ears twitching. In the centre was a pitiful fire—the source of the feeble light—and staring into it was an ugly hag, stringy white hair falling over the translucent blue skin of her face; winter-white shawl clasped around her shoulders.
Could it somehow be the same character she'd met at the pool? "K—Karlin?" Corinne's voice felt scratchy in her throat.
The witch looked up, steely blue eyes narrowing. "No longer," she crowed. "You may call me Cailleach."
The witch from my vision. Corinne recognised her now. The witch who had encased the minstrel in ice, and watched, cackling, as he was chased through the forest by a huge white wolf.
"But how—"
"My magic is strong." The edge to Cailleach's voice sent a shiver down Corinne's spine. "You would do well to remember that. Now," she barked, "I grow hungry. Make me a meal."
Corinne clenched her hands together, and blew into them, trying to spread some warmth into her frozen flesh. "B—but I don't know how. And I'm really cold." Involuntarily, she shivered again.
The witch rummaged on a nearby shelf and threw Corinne a plaid mantle. "Come," she said, motioning toward a corner of the cave.
Wrapping the cloak around her shoulders, feet tingling and muscles complaining, Corinne creaked to her feet and followed Cailleach. But when she saw the array of herbs, roots and spices, her spirits sank. What was she to do with these? "Uh, what do they do?"
A sound of disgust emanated from somewhere deep in Cailleach's throat. "Do you not know how to cook?"
Corinne shook her head. "Not with ingredients like these." Was this a quest, or something more? "And anyway, I need to return to real life."
"You cannot return!"
"W—why not? My credit will run out and I'll have to." She glanced at the corner of her screen—but it was dark; there were no figures telling her of her elapsed time, or how much energy she had left. Her mouth went dry. What's happened to the Feyland game interface? She looked down at her hands, but of course she couldn't see her gamer gloves, they just looked like her normal avatar hands. Had the game broken? Had her visor display come unplugged or something? She remembered the glitch when she'd first seen Karlin. A finger of ice ran down her spine. Had that been the electronics—or magic? If so, how was she to escape this evil creature?
The witch's voice interrupted her bleak thoughts. "Because of you, I have lost Elphin, my cupbearer. You shall replace him."
"He's lost?"
"Yes," the witch cackled, deep gouges appearing in the skin of her cheeks.
So he really had died. A deep emptiness welled up inside as Corinne remembered Elphin's kind orange eyes and his sad smile. He'd been so alive—how could he be gone after he'd helped her so much? Tears pricked, and she blinked hard. She would miss her friend terribly.
Grumpily, Cailleach started to point at some of the different ingredients. "This, and this—" a bony finger pointed at a sheaf of dried herbs and a basket of muddy roots, "—you boil in water, then drain…" She stopped, noticing the incomprehension on Corinne's face. "I have a better idea. We shall visit the Bright Court. There is food there. And you can sing for the King."
"But I can't sing."
The witch glared at her balefully. "Nonsense!" She clapped her hands, summoning the two wolves. "It grows late. And I am hungry. Let us go!"
-::-
The first time Corinne had seen the Bright Court had been as an outsider, spying open-mouthed from behind one of the silvery birches surrounding the clearing as a copper-haired minstrel sang for the King and his faerie courtiers.
But this time she was right at the centre, in full view of everyone, surrounded by beings she'd only read of in books, standing on the same tree stump the minstrel had used as his stage, and expected to sing for her supper. Or rather, the witch's supper. Her throat went dry.
In a corner of the clearing, the Bright King sat on his golden throne, an eerily handsome man with eyes the colour of sapphires and angular features that spoke of noble birth. Platinum-blond hair grazed his shoulders and he wore his royal status like he wore the crown of filigreed gold on top of his head—with arrogance and pride.
And that arrogance made Corinne shiver as she remembered the description of him from the game's instructions: The Bright King presides over the Seelie fey in the Bright Court. He finds mortals amusing—at least until he h
as no further use for them.
What would he do when he discovered that she was a fraud; an impostor here in his court who had stumbled into the faerie realm—because she was sure now that she was no longer just playing a game—and a subject with no real talents to amuse or entertain a king?
The witch tugged at Corinne's cloak, bringing her back to the present. "Sing!" she growled under her breath.
"But—"
The witch glanced across at the King with a look of avarice on her face. "Sing!" she demanded again, more forcefully this time, her jaw clenched and steel in her gaze. "Or you will regret it!"
A magical array of creatures watched expectantly as Corinne puffed out her chest. "Mmm." I tried to tell her. Maybe if I show her up, she'll release me. Maybe that's how I can escape her.
Could it be that easy? Opening her mouth, Corinne began to sing.
Almost immediately, the fey folk surrounding her dais began to make faces, clamping their hands over their ears or inching backwards, away from the dreadful noise she was making. For Corinne was tone-deaf, and her voice rang harsh and discordant like an agitated bullfrog.
The King shifted uncomfortably on his throne and, seeing this, the witch pulled Corinne roughly from the stump. "Cease that caterwauling! Would you make me a laughing stock?"
Yes, thought Corinne, but she held her tongue. Instead she said, "I told you I can't sing."
Tinkles of faerie laughter followed them as the witch dragged her over to the silver buffet. "What can you do then, useless girl?"
Shoot an arrow through your heart? That idea appealed, but the witch had confiscated her bow. Jump on a horse and ride it hell-for-leather to escape your evil clutches? That thought also had merit, but the elven horses stood at the far side of the Bright Court, and she had a feeling she'd be turned into a lump of ice before she'd taken two steps towards them. Play computer games? She ground her teeth. Look where that had got her. Read books? That might work. "Tell stories."