by Frewin Jones
“Keep the tiller thus,” Rathina instructed her, positioning the wooden arm slightly left of center. “That way we shall keep a true course.”
“No problem.” As she held the tiller, Tania was immediately aware of a low thrumming that resonated through her entire body. It was an exhilarating sensation, although it took her by surprise how physically hard it was to keep the tiller at the point Rathina had indicated. It fought to move to the right, and it took a good deal of strength and concentration to keep it under control.
“I’m in sore need of something to eat,” said Rathina, walking easily down the boat. “Would you join me, Master Connor? I’d hear more of your seafaring.”
“It hardly counts as seafaring,” Connor said. “We just messed around in the river, or sometimes we went out to Foulness Point and Virley Channel.”
“I do not know these names,” said Rathina, kneeling to open one of Elias Fulk’s food bags. “But tell me—how does sailing in the Mortal World differ from what we do here?”
“Surprisingly little,” said Connor, sitting on the narrow side bench by the mast and taking bread from Rathina. “Except that the cleats and the gooseneck swivel and such would all be made of steel instead of crystal.”
The wind hummed in Tania’s ears, and she soon lost track of their conversation as they spoke of clews and luffs and outhauls and sheets.
It’s good that they’re getting on. Rathina needs someone to take her out of herself. And she deserves it, too. She’s suffered enough, surely?
Connor said something that Tania didn’t catch and Rathina laughed.
While they chatted, Tania stared out into the unfathomable west, hearing Titania’s voice in her head.
Beyond the flaxen coasts and heathered glens of Alba, beyond the emerald hills of Erin of the enchanted waters, beyond even dragon-haunted Hy Brassail, far, far away to the land of Tirnanog, the Divine Harper spins his songs at the absolute end of the world.
And that’s where they were heading—on a quest to save the Realm of Faerie.
Connor was right. It was crazy. Absolutely crazy!
“Spirits of love and harmony, look!”
Tania had been watching the wind undulating across the sails, mesmerized by the patterns of ripples and puckers on the stretched white canvas. Rathina’s voice broke the spell.
Her sister was pointing behind where Tania sat in the stern, her eyes wide in awe. Connor was also on his feet.
Tania saw a glorious change in the light. From dawning gray it turned suddenly golden, bathing her two companions in a rich effulgence. She twisted in her seat, straining to look over her shoulder.
Deep in the eastern sky threads of yellow light were swarming forward over the coastline of Faerie, veiling the sun so that it shone like a ball of burning copper low on the horizon. The golden filaments arched over the land, knitting together in an impossibly complex pattern, forming a gleaming, lacy shell that stretched beyond sight both to the north and the south—like an onrushing tidal wave of gilded water.
But even as Tania watched awestruck, she felt a terrible weakness invade her body, as though all the strength and energy were being sucked out of her, as though her muscles were being liquefied and her limbs turned to jelly.
She heard Rathina give a cry behind her, but she had no vitality left to turn her head. Her eyes were fixed on the golden wave. It was curling in on itself now, coming down rapidly into the sea beyond the coast, shrouding the land in its glowing aura.
And then in a moment the golden shield became still, and the sun was visible over its shining carapace: The land of Faerie was hidden under its protection.
Images filled Tania’s mind: of men slumping asleep in the fields, of women and children falling to the ground, of dogs and horses and sheep and birds succumbing to the healing slumber of the Gildensleep. And far away and remote, on the southernmost corner of Faerie, her family gathered together with bowed heads and trembling limbs as they worked as one to create and maintain the protective shield.
Tania gasped aloud as she felt the strength flooding back into her body. The worst was over. The power of the Royal Family had been enough. For the time being, at least Faerie was safe from the plague.
Now Tania turned to see how Rathina was. She was kneeling, with Connor beside her, his arms around her. Her head lolled on his shoulder, face white. But then Rathina lifted her head weakly and looked into Tania’s face, dark eyes shining.
“It is done!” she said breathlessly, pulling away from Connor and getting to her feet. There were pride and joy in her face as she stared eastward. She lifted a fist into the air, shouting out loud, “Glorious it is to be of the House of Aurealis on such a morn! August Father King, exalted Mother Queen, illustrious and sublime sisters, hail to thee!” She spread her arms, her head tilted back. “Take all, rend me to the bone if need be—I shall not fail thee!”
Then, as if her words had brought a thunderbolt down on her, she fell backward, her arms still held wide.
Tania let out a yell of alarm, but Connor was there—throwing himself behind Rathina, catching her in his arms as she toppled over.
“Is she all right?” Tania called, half standing as she tried to see Rathina’s face. But her sister’s neck was stretched back over Connor’s upper arm, and all Tania could see was the rapid rise and fall of Rathina’s chest under the bodice of the green gown. Apart from that her body was dreadfully still.
“I think she’s fainted!” Connor shouted back. Very carefully he lowered Rathina’s limp form into the bottom of the boat, kneeling over her, his fingers at her throat to test her pulse. “She’ll be fine. I guess it was the excitement.”
Tania let go of the tiller and scrambled forward along the boat, almost falling as her gown wrapped itself around her legs. “Are you sure she’s okay?” she asked.
“She’s got a steady pulse,” Connor said, his fingers still pressed to the side of her neck. “Slow but steady.”
“I felt really horrible while the Gildensleep was coming,” Tania said. “Like all the life was draining out of me. Maybe it was worse for her. Maybe that’s why she’s passed out.”
“Maybe,” Connor agreed. “How do you feel now?”
“Fine.”
Rathina’s body was stiff, her arms and legs stretched out rigidly, her fists clenched. Her eyes opened, but they were glazed and somehow silvery and she stared straight into the sky as though her mind was absent.
Her lips moved but there was no sound.
“Rathina?” Connor urged, leaning close. “Are you with us?”
“Hard it is . . . this far from Faerie,” came a soft, gentle voice from Rathina’s lips. “But I must speak . . . I will speak one final time. . . .”
Tania knew that voice.
“Dream Weaver,” she said, moving up Rathina’s body to kneel at her shoulder, “how’s my father? My Mortal father?”
“I do not know,” breathed the shimmering voice. “You are the conduit between the worlds, Tania. I cannot pierce the veil alone.”
“Can you take me to him again—please! Just for a few moments. Just so I can see how he is?”
“In the waking world, Tania?” crooned the voice. “Nay, that I cannot do. Indeed, it is hard enough for me to speak with you now that you are so far from the land. My powers are bound to Faerie, and once you are beyond sight of the Realm, my voice will be gone. But listen well to me while you can, Tania Aurealis,” whispered the voice. “Listen and take good heed.”
Tania had to lean closer now; the voice was getting fainter by the moment.
“It is good news that I bring to you,” sighed the voice. “Once you are upon the open ocean and the Immortal Realm is lost to sight, the doom of the earls of Faerie will hold no sway.”
Tania frowned, her ear almost to Rathina’s mouth. “What does that mean?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”
“The portals, Tania,” breathed the weakening voice. “. . . only . . . the ways between . . . only in Faerie . .
. are . . . they . . .”
The voice was gone.
“No!” groaned Tania, staring into Rathina’s eyes. The silver sheen had vanished; her sister’s eyes were wide and dark. “No! I don’t understand what you mean!”
Rathina’s body convulsed and she sat up, her eyes alive again, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she breathed. Her fingers gripped Tania’s wrist. “What matter was that?” she hissed. “It felt like that time beneath the waves.”
“It was,” Tania said.
Rathina’s eyes narrowed. “I pray for a time when I shall meet that creature face to face,” she growled. “Then shall I show her in full measure how it feels to be overborne and made powerless by another!” She frowned. “What words did she have for you?”
“I’m not really sure,” said Tania. “She was trying to tell me something. Good news, she said. But I didn’t get it before she . . .”
“Before we lost the signal,” Connor said. He shook his head. “It’s like when you drive too far from a local radio station. It gets fainter and fainter and then— pop! It’s gone.” He scratched his head. “There is a kind of logic to this world sometimes,” he said. “I’m just going to have to fit it all together piece by piece.”
“What did the creature say?” asked Rathina.
“She said the doom of Faerie would hold no sway . . .” Tania began hesitantly.
“Not quite,” said Connor. “What she actually said was that once we were out on the open sea, the doom of the earls of Faerie would hold no sway.”
“Yes. That was it.”
“And then she said something about the portals and the ways between,” Connor added. “And then we lost her. I suppose we could always turn around and go back—you know, see if we can pick up the signal again.”
“Against such a wind as this?” said Rathina as a squall hit the sails and the boat rocked, making them all reach for safe handholds. “Nay, it would be too arduous an endeavor. We have no time for such an enterprise.”
“Wait!” Tania said sharply. “Just wait a minute!” She shut her eyes tight, trying to think. Trying to fit the Dream Weaver’s words together to form a coherent whole.
She lifted her head. “Yes!” she said. “I’ve got it! I’m sure I have!” She looked from one face to the other. “The doom of the earls was that the ways between the worlds would be shut down forever,” she said eagerly, a new hope kindling in her even as she spoke. “I think the Dream Weaver was trying to tell me that once we’re out of sight of Faerie, I’ll be able to get back to London again—back to Mum and Dad.” She looked into Connor’s face. “You’ll be able to get home!” She laughed for pure joy. “We can both get back!”
Chapter Nine
“Yes!” Connor shouted, reaching impulsively toward Tania. “Yes! That’s exactly what she meant!”
They hugged tightly. Tania knew how much this must mean to him—how heavily his exile had been weighing on his mind since they had walked beneath the waves.
“We can go home!” Connor’s voice was loud in Tania’s ear as his arms wrapped around her. “Oh my god! I can hardly believe it!” He drew back, his hands on her shoulders, his face elated. “But it makes sense; of course it does. The King and Queen and all those earls have plenty of power inside Faerie—but once you move out of range, they can’t do a thing!”
“I think you’re right!” Tania exclaimed. “But how can we be certain?”
“Try that side step thing of yours,” Connor suggested.
“What, here?” Tania said, her voice full of laughter as another gust of wind sent the boat rocking. “Don’t be daft. This is a Faerie boat—it would disappear if I moved into the Mortal World. I’d be splashing about in the sea!”
“No, you’re right; that’s not a great idea.” Connor looked intensely at her. “But when can we try it? How far are we from Alba?”
“I don’t know.”
“Whist awhile!” came Rathina’s calm voice, breaking sharply into their elation. “Ere we try to dance upon a rose thorn’s tip, let the task upon which we are bound not be entirely forgotten.” She looked soberly at them. “I am glad indeed that your exile here may not be permanent, Master Connor, and I am blithe beyond measure that you, my sweet sister, can seek out your Mortal parents—but long is the road before us, and several are the strange lands we must cross to get to journey’s end.”
“Oh yes, of course!” Tania burst out, pushing Connor’s hands away and reaching out to grip Rathina’s fingers. “But you can’t blame us for being excited—we thought we’d never get back again, ever. This means so much to Connor—it’s going to make such a difference to him to know he can get home.”
Connor looked at her. “Has it really been that obvious?” he asked.
“You have been kind of grouchy,” she said. “But I totally understood why.”
“Well, paint me officially un-grouchy from now on.” Connor laughed. “And as soon as we get to Alba—Tania can do her thing and pop us back into Ireland—even if it’s only for a few minutes, you know? Long enough to phone home!” He looked at Tania. “You’ll be able to call your mum and make sure your dad is doing okay.”
“Yes, yes!” cried Tania. “And even if I can never move between the worlds in Faerie ever again, so long as I can do it in Alba, everything will be fine. It’ll be more complicated, and it’ll be way more time-consuming, of course, but there are ferries and airplanes that go from Ireland to England all the time.”
“You can commute.” Connor laughed again. “Between Faerie and Earth and between Ireland and England. That’ll be pretty cool!”
“And you can get on with your life,” said Tania. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out explosively. “Oh, please! Let it be true! Just let it really be true.”
Connor let out a gasp and dropped to his knees, his hands over his face. “I can go home,” he said, his voice choking as the full realization finally hit him. Tania touched her fingertips to his bowed head, understanding what this moment must mean to him.
She straightened, gazing back the way they had come. The bright glow of the Gildensleep was a slender golden thread on the horizon. The sky above was filling with blue daylight—and ahead of them, just out of sight, lay the land of Alba and the chance to put hope to the test!
It was exactly as Titania has prophesied when they had spoken in the water-mirror in the darkness and misery of the previous night.
This really was a glad new day.
“Then let us sail swift to Alba!” cried Rathina, heading for the tiller. “We have drifted off our true course. Tania, get the Mortal to his feet! There is work to be done if we are to make safe landfall.”
Tania sat in the stern of the sailboat eating an apple while the blustery wind blew through her hair. Connor was at the tiller now—all through the long day the three of them had taken turns to guide the Blessèd Queen ever onward.
Rathina was at the prow, staring out over the sea.
The sky was cloudless but hazy above, and the sea was a wide green wheel, featureless, endless, enigmatic. And they at the hub. Quite alone.
“I’ve never been out of sight of land before,” Tania said, turning her head to slowly take in the view of the horizon. “Not in a boat, I mean. In an airplane, yes— but that’s different, isn’t it? You look down from an airplane and it’s kind of not quite real. Like CGI effects in a movie. But being on a little boat like this, out in the middle of nowhere . . .” She gave a shiver. “It’s a weird feeling.” She glanced at Connor. “Don’t you think?”
He blinked and looked at her. “Sorry?” he said. “I was miles away. What were you saying?”
“Oh, nothing,” Tania said, leaning an arm over the side and trailing her hand in the water, feeling the drag of their speed slapping against her fingers. “Nothing in particular.”
The wind blew still from the east, but a lot of its power was gone—it had lessened the farther west they sailed, and now, with the day fading and the sun low on the empty wes
tern horizon, it had grown gusty and difficult to gauge.
“What were you thinking about, then?” Tania asked him.
“The secret of immortality,” he said, his eyes narrowed against the glare of the yellowing sun.
“Connor, there is no secret,” she told him. “It’s not like splitting the atom or discovering a cure for cancer. Immortality just is. This is not a world where you can solve everything scientifically—I thought you’d be getting the hang of that by now.”
“I think you’re wrong,” Connor said mildly. He smiled as though to encourage her to follow his reasoning. “Just because no one here knows how it works, that doesn’t mean it can’t be figured out.” His eyes shone. “Imagine it, Tania. The secret of immortality.” He held a hand out, palm upward. “Right there—right there in our hand. Imagine the reception we’d get back home. The Estabrook-Palmer Cure for Death.” Tania looked at him without speaking, but it did not pass her by that his name came first—and that she was Palmer and not Aurealis.
“We’d get the Nobel Prize for medicine for sure,” he continued. “We’d be world famous. Benefactors of humanity. They’d go crazy for us!”
She laughed gently. “You’re crackers,” she said charitably. “But go for it, if it gives you any pleasure. Knock yourself out!”
The boat rocked suddenly. Tania turned and saw that Rathina had risen to her feet. She was standing tall in the prow, staring hard into the east, a look of alarm and concern on her face.
“Rathina? What is it?” Tania called. She followed the line of her sister’s eyes but could see nothing— nothing but the smooth, dappled jade green face of the sea.
“Danger!” Rathina called. “Danger blown on the wind!”
“I can’t see anything,” Connor called, twisting his head to scan the horizon. “What kind of danger?”
“Someone is calling on the Dark Arts,” Rathina said. “We are being followed!”
“Are you sure?” Tania was on her feet now, balancing herself with a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “There’s nothing there, Rathina.”