Faerie Quest: A Feyland Urban Fantasy Tale (The Celtic Fey Book 3)

by Roz Marshall

  With a slight shake of her head, Corinne took Elphin's hand, his pulse fluttering faintly under her fingers. "Why will nobody help us?" she said, half to herself; half to him. But of course he couldn't reply. His breathing was so faint, she could hardly see his chest move. Tears welled. How could this happen? I was supposed to rescue him, not get him killed. And now he would never get back to Scotland, never be reunited with Phemie.

  And I will never see him again. Her heart broke. I lost Midnight, I lost Ghost, and now I'm losing Elphin. My friend, my confidant, my…

  Tears ran freely down her cheeks, and her voice cracked. "Don't die Elphin! Please. I need you. I…" a fat tear dripped from her chin and splashed onto Elphin's chest.

  Leaning closer, she whispered against his cheek, sharing the truth she had only just realised, too late, now that she was about to lose him. But perhaps he would hear her words even as he slipped away, and it would ease his passing.

  "I love you, Elphin."

  CHAPTER 20

  A SCENE OF devastation met Myrddin when he arrived back at Gwyllin's guard spot. Charred tree trunks, smoking branches and scorched earth surrounded three huge craters which were illuminated by trickles of flame and still sparked with skeins of blue magic.

  In the middle of it all, frozen into a huge block of ice like a warrior mage in mid-fireball throw, was Gwyllin, cold and blue with her mouth open in a petrified scream.

  Cailleach, thought Merlin grimly. This had her mark all over it.

  He quickly scanned the area. But the witch had already left. He grimaced. I will deal with her later. First there was a neophyte spellcaster to release.

  With a swirl of his cloak, he stomped over to Gwyllin and touched the glowing tip of his staff to the block of ice.

  As if placed in front of a fiery furnace, in a trice the ice melted and dissolved, pooling on the ground beneath Gwyllin's feet and releasing the spellcaster imprisoned inside. Gwyllin's skin turned from blue, through white to a healthier shade of pink within seconds, and she began to move, twitching her shoulders and blinking as if to clear her vision.

  "W—what happened?" she asked, turning towards the wizard and cricking her neck. "I feel like I've been run over by a tractor, and then locked in a deep freeze."

  "The Witch of Winter happened," Merlin replied. "Cailleach."

  -::-

  There was no light at the end of a tunnel. No angels singing. No pearly gates.

  Instead, Elphin's body was on fire, agony radiating in sickening waves from the hole in his chest. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. Hard to feel anything but despair.

  But then his ears picked up Corinne's sweet voice, faint, as if it hailed from a great distance. A trickle of hope fought its way through the mire of pain. She was alive! I saved her.

  Relief flooded his bones. The witch had not won.

  Not only had Elphin survived all those years in the service of that evil hag; all that awful time in her frigid cave, but he had not succumbed, even as Cailleach had tried to coerce him to join with her, to be her mate. Yes, he had paid a great price, but his spirit had stayed pure, and he could take comfort from that.

  And now he had saved Corinne, the girl who had captured his heart, and he could die happy. It was worth it. She was safe from the witch's evil clutches.

  For a moment, he basked in that thought, the pain receding as if he had been dosed with wintergreen. Then someone took his hand, and his eyes fluttered open. Corinne. Minty breath whispered against his cheek, her body so close he was sure he could hear her heart beat. Or was that his own, thundering like a herd of wild antelope?

  And then a bomb dropped onto his chest. Or something equally violent. Every muscle in his body spasmed, fixing him rigidly in place and seizing his diaphragm so that his lungs started to scream for oxygen. Pain came roaring back, worse this time, every cell in his body protesting as sinews tore and bones wrenched from their sockets.

  The agony obliterated all rational thought. All thought, save for a memory. A memory that clawed its way to the surface, fighting through the torment until it filled his brain.

  The memory of a sensation. The sensation he felt when his body was transforming. Transforming from the fey beast—the leathery skin, orange eyes and coarse hair the witch had cursed him with—into his real form.

  And with that realisation, the pain faded, his vision cleared, and he found himself looking dazedly into Corinne's hazel eyes. Eyes that shone—not with affection, this time, but with love.

  -::-

  Elphin's kiss tasted of vanilla. Sweet, like freshly-made fudge, and soft like pillowy clouds in a summer sky. He kissed away her sadness, her fear, the shock she'd felt when she realised that he had changed; that the Elphin she'd befriended and grown to love had actually been the enchanted form of the minstrel she'd been smitten with on her first foray into the game.

  He kissed her until her mind went blank and all she could think about was his delicious mouth, his gentle hands holding her close, his body firm and strong in her arms. He was tall and warm, not wrinkled and mis-formed like his ensorcelled form. And handsome, so very handsome.

  She broke their kiss for a moment, just so she could look at him.

  Clear green eyes sparkled back at her, the freckles on his pale skin barely visible but serving to highlight a straight nose and cheekbones models would die for. A wide mouth, full lips and white teeth smiled joyfully back at her, and framing it all were those amazing copper curls that caught the sun and blazed like the halo on an angel. Her angel. Her hero. Her Elphin, who had saved her life—again—and somehow transformed into the fey minstrel with the most amazing singing voice she'd ever heard.

  Raising a hand, she cupped his cheek, questions crowding her brain and threatening to spill out all at once. "Elphin," she started, but a roar from across the clearing had them spinning apart in alarm.

  Elphin pushed her protectively behind him, bravely facing this new threat.

  -::-

  It was pure instinct that had Elphin put himself between Corinne and danger once again, just like it was instinct that had made him take her in his arms and tenderly—carefully—kiss her, letting his lips describe his emotions, his body show his feelings. Tentatively at first, lest he scare her away or in case he had read her wrong, worried that his transformation was from some other magic, not her love.

  But she had kissed him back, and his heart had overflowed with joy, slowly displacing the frost, fear and forsakenness of the past years here in the faerie realm and leaving him with a warm glow that tingled every nerve in his body and stretched his mouth into a smile that was wider than a Cheshire cat.

  That glow lasted just a few moments, until a clamour from somewhere nearby sent adrenaline rushing to his limbs and his senses onto high alert. He had only just found Corinne, his first and only love, and he did not intend to lose her again, no matter what foe he had to face, or what maleficent magic he had to survive.

  -::-

  The Bright Court assailed Phemie's senses like the cattle pens at an agricultural show. Sounds, smells, shapes, sensations, shades—everything entranced her in a kaleidoscope of light and colour.

  Nothing she had read or seen before had prepared her for this; for the perfection of the faeries and elves she saw within, for the myriad translucent hues and chroma that sparkled from every corner, for the delicious smells that wafted from the feast laid on the silver tables to her right, or for the fearsome awesomeness of the Bright King perched regally on his golden throne.

  But then she froze in alarm, breath stopping in her throat and hand grasping at Myrddin's arm as he stood beside her.

  There, beside the throne, reaching towards the King with evil written all over her face, was her nemesis. Cailleach. The Witch of Winter.

  CHAPTER 21

  WITH A ROAR, Myrddin flew across the clearing, grey robes billowing behind him like an evanescent wraith, eyes blazing with righteous fire.

  But whatever the witch's intention, he was too l
ate.

  With a cackle of glee, and clutching something to her chest as if it was a precious jewel, she spun away from the throne with a swirl of coal-black skirts and ice-white cloak. In a flash, she had disappeared into the forest, leaving nothing behind save the echo of her triumph and a sprinkle of frost motes dusting the air like diamonds.

  Myrddin glanced at the King, who seemed moved, but unharmed. Safe, thankfully, although the witch's magic should not be powerful enough to harm fey royalty.

  That thought gave Myrddin pause. When he had banished her here, he had set bounds on her influence and limits on her abilities. Could she somehow be overcoming the wards he had set? With a frown, he glared at the spot in the trees where she had disappeared. Should I follow? Try to find her? Silence her once and for all?

  His eyes narrowed. No. She had done nothing to the king, and Gwyllin had been rescued. All was well.

  With the slightest shake of his head, Myrddin turned to follow the King's gaze.

  The old wizard's heart swelled when he saw the tableau before them; the flame-haired minstrel with a protective arm around the mortal archer, shielding her from harm and scowling at the spot where the witch had stood.

  The enchantment has broken, then.

  So why was the witch so happy?

  -::-

  Phemie couldn't match Myrddin's otherworldly acceleration, but she sprinted across the court in his wake with all the speed her youthful avatar could muster, her anger somehow invoking fireballs that glowed menacingly in each hand as she ran.

  Her wild dash was in vain, though. She was too late. With a screech like a banshee, the witch disappeared into the trees, leaving Myrddin fuming in front of the throne, grey eyebrows knit together like nimbostratus clouds on a stormy day.

  Then something caught his attention, and Phemie spun, muscles bunched and fireballs at the ready.

  The sight that met her eyes doused the flames in her hands, melted her heart and turned her legs to water.

  Her brother.

  Her long-lost brother who had disappeared in a storm more than forty years ago. Unchanged and unharmed. Elphin.

  -::-

  Myrddin's reverie was interrupted when the blue-robed spellcaster who had rushed to his side sagged and almost fainted.

  Instinctively, he grabbed her under the arms and held her up. "Gwyllin," he said, peering at her white face. "What ails you?"

  She raised a shaky hand and pointed at the minstrel.

  Of course. "Yes, it is your brother. Come." Supporting her with his left arm, they started across the emerald turf towards the young couple who stood in the centre of the court, surrounded by curious fey and overlooked by a benevolent—for once—faerie king.

  -::-

  Behind him, Corinne had drawn her bow. Elphin looked down at his hands. I need to get a weapon. Healing potions or a bronzed lyre were all very well, but he was unable to defend himself in a fight.

  He clenched his fists and jutted his jaw. Whatever was going on, they were not going to get to to Corinne.

  Over my dead body. Probably literally. He had been so close to death a few minutes ago; only the recuperative powers of the transformation had healed him, like the time when Cailleach's wolf had shredded his arm. But if he was truly returned to his mortal form, then there would be no more restorative changes. This body was it from now on.

  Shifting his stance, he raised his fists and squinted at the fracas by the throne. What is going on? The wizard stood tense like a bow string, staring into the forest with a face like thunder. Beside him, fireballs glowed brightly in the hands of an agitated-looking spellcaster that he had no memory of seeing before.

  And then they both turned to face him, setting the adrenaline coursing through his veins once more.

  The blonde spellcaster took one look at him and her legs buckled underneath her. For a moment, Elphin wondered if he had somehow changed back to his beast form and frightened her. He glanced down at his body. No. Still dressed as a bard: brown tunic, black breeches, leather belt and boots. Not that then.

  By the time he looked back, they were hurrying towards him, the blue-robed newcomer supported on the wizard's arm; her face pale and her expression astounded. And this time it was he who nearly fainted.

  I know that face! The green eyes were mirrors of his own, the strong jaw and wide mouth a family trait they had both inherited. Phemie! The twin sister he had thought he would never see again.

  Casting a delighted grin at Corinne, he broke into a run and threw his arms around Phemie, tears of joy streaming down his face.

  CHAPTER 22

  RELUCTANTLY, CORINNE RELEASED Elphin's hand as the wizard directed him towards the stand of rowans at the top of the faerie hill.

  "Young archer, spellcaster," the wizard faced them, pointing his oaken staff at a ring of polkadot mushrooms a short distance away. "I will return the minstrel via the stones. You should complete your quests in the game by returning the usual way."

  Her quest. Corinne had forgotten about the quest she'd been given her very first time playing the game. 'Only the pure can see the pure, only the pure will find him. Only with love will love be shown, only by love unbind him.' A glow of satisfaction suffused her chest. At last the strange riddle made sense.

  It was a two-part quest. The first part was about the unicorn—the pure beast who could only be tamed by an unsullied maid. The second was about Elphin, whose enchantment had only released once she realised that she loved him. Him—his personality and character, not his looks. Like some modern-day Beauty and the Beast, he'd been saved when she'd seen behind the mask, to the real person beneath.

  She caught Elphin's eye, her face creasing into a smile.

  And what was it the wizard had said, the first time he'd taken her here? Something about chains and falling?

  "Yes," said Myrddin, as if he'd read her mind. "The one you seek is bound, but not by chains. He can escape, simply by falling. You may find him, but only if you truly see."

  She nodded. "And I did." Reaching across, she took Elphin's hand. "Can't we all go back together?"

  Now that she'd found him, Corinne was reluctant to leave Elphin, in case something went wrong and they were separated again.

  The wizard straightened. "It is no trivial matter to breach the barrier between our worlds and send a person across the divide. My magic is strong, but…" His brow lowered. "I may have need of it again, before the day is out. We do not know where the Witch of Winter went, or what she is planning."

  His words sent a chill through Corinne's bones, and she glanced at Elphin. "Send him now, then, so we know he's safe."

  The wizard raised his eyebrows at her.

  "Please?" she added.

  CHAPTER 23

  THE LAND-ROVER'S engine complained as Phemie's foot crunched down on the accelerator and the vehicle roared along the country lane. Grassy verges whizzed by in a blur, the leafy beech hedges looking more like a green wall broken by the occasional five-bar gate or thick-trunked oak.

  In the passenger seat, Corinne held tight onto the grab handle above the window, the other hand bunched on her thigh, staring fixedly ahead.

  "As soon as we get to the farm," Phemie paused while she shifted down a gear for a tight bend, "I'll get the quad bike out of the shed. We can head up to Chessaig and find him."

  The girl chewed her lip. "I hope he's okay."

  So do I. "He will be," Phemie replied, more reassuringly than she felt.

  Minutes later, they roared through the farm gates and screeched to a halt outside the farmhouse. Corinne spilled from one door and Phemie leaped out of the other, hurrying round the back of the land-rover.

  A squeal from Corinne set Phemie's pulse racing. "What's wrong?" she called.

  But when she reached the gate, she saw that nothing was wrong. Everything was right, in fact. Her face cracked into a grin.

  Sitting on the front step was Elphin. Her brother. Returned to real life. Returned to her.

  -::-


  "I thought I told you to wait at Chessaig till we found you?" Phemie—for it must be his sister; he recognised the voice, although her hair had gone grey and her skin had aged—was trying to sound fierce, but the relief behind her words was evident.

  Elphin smiled. "I found I could not just sit there. I was too excited. So I decided to walk to the farm."

  "Come inside." Phemie unlocked the door and ushered him in. "Before anyone sees you. We'd have some explaining to do."

  Elphin glanced down at his bard outfit. "I am afraid it is too late. My apologies. A couple of the horsey girls saw me crossing the farmyard and asked what I was doing here. I told them I was a long-lost relative who had been travelling." He lifted a shoulder. "The one that looked like Snow White's evil stepsister seemed sceptical, but I think the other one believed me. Red pigtail."

  Corinne made a face. "Sonya and Mandy."

  Phemie just grunted, and led them through to the kitchen.

  Everything seemed normal. Familiar. Homely. Warm. But smaller, somehow. Like he had been living in an epic fantasy, and now he was in a domestic drama. Which I kind-of was, I suppose.

  Kind of. That was a modern idiom, one that he used to use, before…

  Talking to Corinne in the realm, he had become aware that his speech patterns had changed, that he sounded more archaic. Like he was living in a book of bedtime stories. I wonder how long it will take for my phrasing to revert to something more modern? Perhaps it would be like visiting a foreign country, and gradually tuning in to the new language.

  "Tea?" Phemie asked, filling the kettle.

  "Aye. Good idea." He walked slowly around the well-kent room, touching a handle here, a surface there. Everything was the same, but somehow different. But he recognised the antique Welsh Dresser over on the far wall. Picking up a photo in a silver frame, he raised an eyebrow. "You kept that photo of me at the Conservatory?"