by Frewin Jones
“Good.” With a weary smile Edric crumpled unconscious to the floor.
Jade dropped to one knee, two fingers pressed to the side of Edric’s neck. “Just feeling for a pulse,” Jade said. “There it is. Strong and clear.” She looked into Tania’s eyes. “He’s fine. Exhausted is all. He was pretty much wiped out before he made us bring him here.” She glanced around the wrecked room. “The boy did good, though.”
Rathina helped Tania to her feet. “Have the other six gone?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Rathina sighed. “This is a sad victory.” She frowned. “If victory it be. Lear is bested, I deem, but what damage has he wrought in Faerie?”
Tania turned to look at the five floating amber globes and the crumpled shapes within them. “We need Isenmort,” she said. Only the touch of Isenmort—of metal—could open the eternal prisons.
“I have none,” said Rathina. “I lost my sword on the beach under Tirnanog.”
“What’s Isenmort?” asked Jade.
“Metal.”
“I’ve got some spare change in my pocket,” she said hopefully, digging out a small handful of coins.
Rathina took them. “Come, sister, let’s play out the last act of this drama,” she said, striding down toward the smashed throne plinth.
Tania followed her.
Rathina positioned herself under the prison where Oberon was crouched. She tossed a coin into the air. It spun, glittering in the clear light that poured in through the broken windows. At the height of the toss the coin struck the underside of the floating ball.
It stuck to the amber shell, and within moments Tania saw gray tendrils spreading out over the amber. She strained her neck, watching the King as the ribbons of gray converged and spun out higher.
There was a crack like distant thunder. Fissures swept over the globe. A golden light poured out, and with it a booming, rejoicing voice.
“Free!” roared the King. “I am free!”
He stood on the golden air for a moment, stretching his cramped limbs. He looked at Tania and Rathina and smiled. He reached down and from the debris that was strewn across the floor, his crown leaped up to his hand, whole and unharmed.
“Father!” Rathina cried. “Praise the good spirits!”
“And praise the love and courage of a King’s children!” called Oberon, placing the crown on his head. He turned, stretching out a hand. Golden light bathed the remaining four amber prisons.
“Be free, my wife, my love. Be free, my children, custodians of my heart!”
The globes broke and dissolved, and Titania and Hopie and Eden and Sancha floated softly to the ground on clouds of gold.
Tania threw herself into their arms. She could do nothing more than hold her mother and her sisters and weep with joy.
As they stood there in the ruins of the Throne Room, crystal bells began to ring out from distant towers. The peal of the bells was picked up and answered from farther away, the glorious sound doubling and redoubling all along the vast expanse of the Royal Palace until it seemed to Tania that the whole Realm of Faerie was alive with a riotous chime.
Lear was banished and the Royal Family was free!
Chapter XVIII
Oberon strode to the broken windows of the Throne Room and stared out over the land of Faerie for a few silent moments. Tania watched him, wondering what was to come next. He turned, and his voice was strong and vibrant above the ringing bells.
“Prince Lear is banished forever,” he said. “And with his passing the great plague has been lifted from this Realm—I feel it to the very roots of my soul! My people are free, and even now, throughout Faerie, the sick rise in wonder from their deathbeds and greet the glad new dawn!” A look of pain darkened his face. “But many have died and can never return. And my people are Mortal now and prey to all the ills and travails of that sorry state. Much work needs to be done ere all is as it should be in Faerie.”
He looked slowly around the wreckage of the Throne Room. “Let us leave this place,” he said. “Never shall the Throne Room be made whole again. The throne shall remain forever sundered and strewn in shards across the floor of this chamber, so that for all time the people of Faerie may come here and learn how fragile is the peace that blesses them, and remember those who died and shall never return.”
The King showed no sign of the exhaustion that had wracked him the last time Tania had seen him. Sad as he was, he seemed as strong and powerful as he had been before the Gildensleep had drained the energy from him.
Tania wiped her sleeve across her eyes, still held safe in Titania’s strong embrace. “Beloved daughter!” The Queen sighed. “You bring me such joy!” She glanced to the doorway, where Jade was kneeling at Edric’s side. “Who is this Mortal girl?”
“She’s Jade,” said Tania. “She’s my friend. She kind of invited herself along.”
“A close friendship it must be, for her to have traveled with you between the worlds,” said the Queen. “She is most welcome.”
Tania looked from Titania to the King. “Is the plague really gone?” she asked.
“It is,” said Oberon. “With his banishment all the works of Prince Lear fell into ruin. But alas for my people—so many have been lost. The evil done to this Realm will never be entirely washed away.”
Eden rested her long white hand on Tania’s forehead. “It has been a hard road for you, sweet sister,” she said. “And, alas, for your griefs are not all told—a great loss has befallen our family.”
Tania stepped out of her mother’s arms.
“Where is Cordelia?” Rathina demanded.
Sancha’s solemn face ran with tears, and she could not speak.
“She died,” said Hopie, her voice choking. “I did what I could. I used all my Arts, all my skills—but the plague was too deep in her body.”
“No!” The shout tore out of Tania’s throat. “No!”
Rathina reeled, her face blanched. “Not Cordelia, no. Blood of the spirits, not Cordelia . . .” Eden put her arms about Rathina’s shoulders.
“But what about the Gildensleep?” Tania cried. “That was supposed to protect her—it was supposed to protect everyone!”
“It saved Faerie from huge loss,” said Titania. “But it was not enough to bring my daughter back to us.” Her eyes were sunken with bereavement. “Her mind was gone, Tania. Even had her body survived, she would not have been the person you knew.”
“It is hard beyond enduring,” said Eden. “But it is done and she is lost to us. A second child of Aurealis has flown to the bliss of Albion.”
“When did this happen?” groaned Rathina.
“But a short time before Lear fell upon us in the Throne Room at Veraglad Palace,” said Sancha. “We had scarce time for her funeral rites before doom came from the Frozen North.”
“You know who Lear was?” asked Tania.
“All too well!” declared Eden. “Great pleasure he had in telling us the tale of his life while we were locked in amber. When all was told, he brought us here to the Royal Palace, the better to savor the fruits of his triumph.”
“And yet I never utterly despaired,” said Titania, looking sadly but fondly from Rathina to Tania. “For I knew the strength that resided in the hearts of my two youngest daughters, questing for the good of all across strange and uncanny lands.”
“And did you find Tirnanog?” asked Sancha. “Did you speak with the Divine Harper?”
“She did, indeed!” said Rathina. “And the interview cost her dear!” She glanced to where Jade was kneeling with Edric’s head now resting in her lap. “And if not for Edric’s endeavors, all would have been lost.”
“I will tend him,” said Hopie, moving quickly toward the doors. As she came close to where he lay, she paused and looked at Tania over her shoulder. “He reeks of the Dark Arts,” she said uneasily. “From skin to bones it infests him.”
“With good cause!” said Rathina. “Without those deadly Arts nothing could have been accomplishe
d.”
Tania looked anxiously at her healer sister. “He’s all right, though, isn’t he?” she asked. She remembered the deathly look of his eyes.
“I will help,” said Eden, striding in her sister’s wake. “All that can be done shall be done.” Her fingers were already moving and sending out threads of golden light toward Edric. Jade laid his head gently on the floor and stood up, backing off and eyeing the mystical tendrils uneasily as they spun over Edric’s slumped body.
“What did the Divine Harper tell you?” asked Sancha.
Tania looked at the King. “First, is Lear gone?” she asked. “Gone for good, I mean?”
“His spirit is broken,” the King replied. “The same blood flows in our veins, and thus I know his fate. His power is dispersed and abated. He will not be able to enter this Realm again.”
Tania grinned mirthlessly. “Then there’s no chance of him stealing your throne if you leave Faerie!” she said. “That means you can go to Tirnanog and sort things out with the Harper.”
“Few have come to me with a more welcome message,” said the King, taking Tania by the shoulders and looking deep into her eyes. “Ahh! And I see what it was that the Harper told you. I must go to him and renew the covenant.” His eyes shone. “So be it!”
“And shall the people of Faerie then be Immortal again, Father?” asked Rathina.
“With the proper courtesies and sacraments, I do believe it to be so,” said the King. “Great service have you done for Faerie, my daughter. You and Tania and the Mortal boy.” He turned and smiled at Tania. “Truly it is said that the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter shall work wonders!”
“Let us to ship!” declared Rathina. “The Cloud Scudder will surely cleave the air to Tirnanog within the circuit of a single day, and all things will be made anew!”
“In good time it will,” said the King gravely. “But such a journey cannot be undertaken without due ceremony.” He lifted his chin. “I shall call upon the Conclave of Earls to bless my journey.”
“All will not come,” Sancha said. “Aldritch of Weir will not come!”
“Can the rites be fulfilled without the lord of Weir in attendance?” asked Titania.
“That we shall see,” said the King. “In the meantime let us summon the lords and ladies of the court—they shall forgather in the Great Hall and I will speak with them!” He rested his arm across Tania’s shoulders. “Come, stand at my right hand, with your sister Rathina upon my left. Together you have done great deeds, my daughters—but the greatest is yet to come!”
Tania leaned anxiously over Edric. “How is he?” she asked.
“He sleeps,” Hopie said. “Fear not. He will recover.”
“He is strong, Tania,” said Eden. “With a strength that is not all his own. It is your love that protects him from danger.”
Tania smiled with relief. “Then he’ll be protected forever!” she said.
“Wow!” Tania turned at the sound of Jade’s voice. Her friend looked thrilled and astounded. “I can’t believe how amazing this place is!” she said. “Tania, it totally rocks! Now I get why you were gone for so long!”
Hopie instructed two men of Faerie to bear Edric to a high, airy bedchamber in the Royal Apartments. Tania and Jade followed the slow cortege.
I won’t leave him! Not until he’s better.
As they climbed the stairs and walked the upper galleries of the palace, Jade gazed around, mouthing a silent “wow” at every new thing she saw.
Edric was laid on a four-poster bed and covered with fresh white linen. Hopie had her medicine chest brought from the princesses’ gallery, and soon the sweet and pungent odor of herbs filled the air. Tania was desperate to stay with Edric—to be at his side when he awoke. She and Jade stood at his bedside, watching as Hopie muttered her healing charms and laid a wreath of white flowers by his head.
“He looks peaceful,” Tania said, gazing down at his pale, sleeping face. She wondered whether there was silver under his closed eyelids.
“I have given him a tincture of passionflower and valerian to induce a dreamless sleep,” Hopie said. She gestured to the bunch of small white flowers lying on his pillow. “Anise will ward off dark dreams, and I will distill the orange flowers of aloe to keep evil at bay.”
Tania sat on the side of the bed and took Edric’s hand. “Will he be himself?” she asked.
“You fear that he will not?” said Hopie.
“He was strange—just for a few moments, when we first got here. He wasn’t himself. And his eyes . . . they were dead.” She swallowed hard. “There are voices inside the Dark Arts—bad voices. I heard them, too, just for a little while. But if they’re in his head all the time . . .” She looked fearfully at Hopie. “What must they be doing to him?”
“The Dark Arts are savage and deadly,” said Hopie. “But I do not believe he has been damaged by them. Not thus far.” She rested her hand on Edric’s forehead. “No. He will recover and be himself, I believe, so long as he never uses the Dark Arts again.”
“Good,” said Tania. “Then I’ll just sit here and wait for him to wake up.”
“There is nothing for you to do here, Tania,” Hopie said. “He will sleep the day out now. Return at dusk, and be here when he awakens.”
“I want to stay,” Tania said firmly.
“’Twill be a long and unnecessary vigil when all else in Faerie is awakening,” said Hopie. “Go! Show your friend that Faerie is a world of wonders as well as of torments.”
Jade smiled. “I kind of already got that, thanks,” she said. “But I wouldn’t mind taking a look around. I wish I’d brought my mobile with me—I need some pictures of this place. No one’s going to believe me when I get back otherwise.”
Tania looked uneasily at her friend, but she didn’t say anything—there was no purpose in alarming Jade until she knew for certain whether the barriers between Faerie and the Mortal World were still in place. They’d been able to get through this time, but who knew if it would work without Tania’s other selves? She thought she knew who would be able to tell her.
She stood up. “You’ll stay with him, won’t you?” she said to Hopie. “And you’ll let me know immediately if he starts to wake up early?”
“He will sleep till the hour before sunset,” Hopie said briskly, busy with a mortar and pestle, grinding orange flowers into an aromatic paste.
Tania looked urgently at her.
“Very well,” Hopie relented. “If he stirs earlier, I shall have you sent for. Now go, for pity’s sake, and leave me to my work.”
“This is mind-blowing!” said Jade. “You guys must really be into reading!”
Tania had brought Jade to the Royal Library—guessing correctly that she would find Sancha among her beloved books.
Jade walked to the center of the room, coming to the hub of the spiraling lines of black and white floor tiles. She gazed up to the galleries that lined the curved walls—every gallery the home to a thousand ancient tomes. Light poured in through the high domed roof, gilding the burnished wooden balustrades and stairways.
Sancha, dressed as always in a plain black gown, and with her long chestnut hair tied back from her face, was standing by a reading lectern, with a look of relief and pleasure on her slender face. “I had feared Lear might do some irreparable damage here,” she said. “The destruction of knowledge is ever the first act of the despoiler and tyrant.”
Tania didn’t need reminding of that. She remembered how the Sorcerer King had set flames to the library a few months past. It had only been through the regenerative power of Oberon that all had been made whole again.
“I don’t suppose you guys have ever considered archiving all this on a computer?” Jade asked, turning in a slow circle. “You’d save a whole lot of room—and it’d make looking stuff up way easier, you know?” She grinned. “Then you could turn this place into a multiplex cinema.”
Sancha frowned at her, as though trying to make sense of what she had said. �
��A computer?” she commented at last. “Yes, I remember the word—you have them in the Mortal World.” She smiled. “Nay, Mistress Jade, I wish for no such devices. I love my library, and I know the location of every book within these walls.”
“Amazing!” breathed Jade.
“So, everything is okay here?” Tania asked, taking Sancha by the elbow and gently walking her away from Jade.
“It is,” said Sancha. “Or would be if not for the clouds in your mind, my sister. What ails you? Master Edric will be well, be most sure.”
“It’s not that,” whispered Tania, drawing her sister farther away from Jade. “I need to know something, but keep your voice down, please.”
“What would you know?”
“It’s about the barriers between the worlds,” Tania whispered. “Jade has been talking about what she’s going to do when she gets back home, but I don’t even know if she can go back again.”
“The barriers still guard the ways between the worlds,” said Sancha. “But there is no reason they cannot be removed now that Lear is banished and the plague is gone.”
Tania let out a breath of relief. “Oh, that’s so great!”
“It will require the combined will of the entire Conclave of Earls to speak the words of dissolution,” Sancha said. “And therein lies a stumbling block, for Aldritch of Weir has quit the Conclave and denied the overlordship of the King. In other matters the Conclave can work very well without the earl of Weir—but all of those who closed the ways between the worlds must be assembled if the portals are to be reopened.” She shook her head. “I do not know what inducements might bring him back to us. I fear the Earldom of Weir is estranged from the remainder of Faerie for all time.”
Tania looked at her in dismay. “And Aldritch went because of me,” she said. “It drives me crazy. It’s like for every good thing I do here, something bad happens.”
Good and bad—they haunted her! She had brought a sword of Isenmort from the Mortal World to free Edric from an amber prison, and that same sword had been used by Rathina to release the evil King of Lyonesse. She had tried to end the plague by bringing Connor to Faerie, only to be renounced by Weir as a deadly half-thing, neither Faerie nor Mortal.