Chronicle Worlds: Feyland

by Samuel Peralta

  The intersection of virtual reality gaming and ancient faerie lore has made for a rich and fantastical playground for story ideas to grow. I’m delighted to share these twelve tales of wild and wonderful takes on Feyland, VR gaming, and tricky faerie magic. Keep your wits about you, carry a bit of iron on your person, and game on!

  __________

  Anthea Sharp is the author of the USA Today bestselling Feyland, with over 200,000 copies sold worldwide, and counting. The first book in the series is free at all digital retailers.

  http://antheasharp.com/the-feyland-series

  MeadowRue

  by Joseph Robert Lewis

  “AND THEN THE GOBLIN SAYS, well, at least I’m not mortal!”

  We all laugh. Jenny probably tells this joke more than once a week, but Peg and I still laugh anyway, mostly because out of the three of us, Jenny is the only one who has never actually met a human in person. Lucky her.

  “I still can’t believe I let that girl get away,” Peg mutters, clawing at her scraggly hair, which is dripping with mud. A toad tumbles out between her knobby fingers and swims away. “I almost had her when that boy…”

  “...that boy Tamlin stole her away from you,” I finish for her with a smile.

  “The miserable, bloody Feyguard!” Peg snarls.

  “Indeed, the Feyguard.” I nod understandingly. I don’t have any particular fascination with humans myself, but I can sympathize with theirs. Everyone needs a hobby. Mine is knitting.

  I sit by the edge of the bog and chat with Jenny and Peg a bit longer, but there’s no news and Peg seems eager to check her many snares throughout the distant rivers for hapless humans. Not that we’ve heard of many lately, but still, it helps to pass the time. Personally, I hope she never catches one.

  So we say our farewells and I wander back up the narrow path to my home, looking forward to a few hours of just sitting by the window, sipping my red bramble tea, and reading the Lays of Belaradoc for the hundredth time. And maybe then I’ll take a break to step out into the garden to spend some time with the dormice who live in the hazel to help them weave the switches into shady domes and pet their soft, furry tummies.

  The stars are lovely this evening, but there are only a few because it’s always early evening here in the Dusk Vale. I know that might sound a bit dull to some people, but it’s never too hot or too bright at noon and never too cold or too dark at night. It’s always dim and cool. Always perfect for candles and sweaters, and that suits me just fine. I have a lovely collection of spider-silk sweaters. I knitted them myself.

  I put my hand on the wicker door of my wicker house with thoughts of tea on my mind when I smell something strange. Something foul.

  Glancing about, I see nothing, hear nothing. Just the grove and the soft evening breeze playing through the tall grasses. But then I see it. The mushroom. An ugly white stalk with an angry red cap where there wasn’t one before.

  And then there’s a second, and a third, all rising from the earth in a ring just a few dozen paces up the trail from my front door. Frozen and disbelieving, I watch them pop up from the loam, one by one, all sickly white and poisonous red, a dozen of them, more! My heart leaps up into my throat as my stomach drops into my shoes.

  They’re coming! They’ve found me!

  The Huntsman, it must be the Huntsman! He’ll come charging through the ring with his cackling riders and his howling hounds, horns blowing and beasts snarling, an entire company of blades and fangs and flames all rushing down upon me!

  A light appears in the ring of mushrooms, just a brief flash, and then… her. Just her.

  A human.

  I can’t move. Of all the things fair and foul that I had imagined coming through that ring, this was the least expected, and I don’t know what to do. She’s looking at me. Looking right at me. Maybe if I don’t move she can’t see me. No, wait, I think that’s trolls, not humans.

  She’s a little taller than me, very dark brown-skinned and very bright pink-haired, round-faced and pear-shaped. The small spots on her face don’t look like freckles, and the spectacles resting on her spotted nose are so thick that her eyes are enlarged and distorted.

  And she’s wearing silver armor, with a silver sword on her hip.

  A knight! Why did it have to be a knight? All covered in iron and steel. I can feel myself growing weaker already, my strength and magic waning in the presence of the hideous metal.

  This is going to end badly. Horribly. I should run, I should fly, dash away into a hole with my dormice or soar up to the owl’s roost in the tallest ash, quickly, before she speaks, before she can cast some vile enchantment—

  “Hi there!” The girl waves her hand like a puppy wagging its tail. “Oh, I mean, greetings, fair stranger!”

  I blink and my hand instinctively waves back, though with less enthusiasm than hers. My mouth is dry, but I manage to whisper, “Good even.”

  She starts toward me, casting excited looks up at the steep mossy walls of the vale to the east and west, the slender ash trees and the sleepy willows, the softly waving hazel and hawthorn, and my own small home nestled in the brambles.

  “So pretty,” she whispers to herself. And then she strides down the trail to stand in front of me and I draw back a step as she says, “Hi, hello, good evening! What news, my lady? Everything okay here? Anything I can do for you, Miss Fairy Elf Person?”

  I blink, feeling a bit frozen. “Is this a trick?” I peer at her. “CloverMist? Is that you?”

  “Oh, sorry, manners.” She bows dramatically. “I’m Kandess the Daring, at your service.” She straightens up and extends her open hand to me.

  Slowly, cautiously, I touch her hand gingerly, pinching a single one of her fingers between two of mine and shaking it once. “MeadowRue. A pleasure, I’m sure.”

  “MeadowRue? That’s so pretty.” The knight called Kandess appears to be under some devious curse that forces her to smile all the time and to talk too loudly. Puck’s doing, no doubt. She looks up at the fireflies glowing in the eternal shadows. “Wow, this area is so much more detailed than the early levels, huh? I’ll have to remember to message Jabari about this place.” Then she focuses on me again. “So, Lady MeadowRue, how can I be of assistance to you?”

  “I… You…” I frown, struggling to make sense of her. She’s nothing like the last mortal girl. The last one was clever and cruel, and cold. This one is practically made of sunshine. “I don’t need anything, thank you. You can go.” I wave her gently back toward the ring of mushrooms. “Please.”

  “Really? Are you sure?” Kandess’s smile falters a bit, but it still clings to her dimpled cheeks. “You don’t need me to fetch ten willow wands, or hunt down the dastardly bear that’s been eating your prized pumpkins, or find your little brother who’s lost in the woods?”

  “I… what? No.” I shake my head and massage my eyes. This one must be mad, her mind broken by some vile spirit, perhaps by the cruel Queen herself. Poor thing! Still, she is a mortal, and trouble follows wherever they go, and I can’t risk bringing any trouble here. “No, there’s nothing I need. Please leave, good lady. Go on, back where you came from.” Again, I shoo her toward the mushrooms.

  “Well, I’m not going to leave. I only just got here.” Her smile is definitely drooping now on one side. “I mean, come on, there must be some quest line in this area. What, am I not high enough level to get it? Do I need to grind a bit more? Is that the problem?”

  “There is no problem, brave Kandess,” I assure her, trying to match her smile and failing, I’m sure. “Everything is absolutely fine here.” And it will stay that way if you would just go!

  “Oh wait.” She looks around the glen, peering through the leaves. “Is someone making you say that? Are we being watched? Is there some sort of Big Bad controlling you with an evil curse?”

  “No. If you would just listen to me!” I glare at her. Why does this always happen to me? I’m too soft-spoken, I suppose. Maybe I should work on that, for next time. I
f there is a next time. I hope there isn’t a next time!

  “Fear not, fair maiden!” Kandess draws her sword, assumes a war-like stance, and begins creeping into the shadows of the woods off the trail. “I will find the villain and free you from his power.”

  “No!”

  But she’s already slinking away. If she wasn’t listening to me face-to-face, I doubt shouting at her backside will do much good. This is bad. Very bad. The stink of mortality is all over her. How long before the Queen’s hounds catch the scent? How long before the Huntsman comes looking for her, looking to steal her mortal soul so Her Majesty can break through the world-skein and return to the land of the humans?

  But more importantly, how long before they find me?

  Not long, surely.

  I shrink to the size of a butterfly and whisk through the air on wings of sorrowful laughter and sparkling hope. The forest looms enormous above me, but I plunge through it as easily as falling rain and the bright white trees and their dark green leaves melt into a soft blur around me. A quick circle of the groves and slopes around my home reveals no sign that anyone from the Courts has come (yet!), so I flit past the human intruder to land in front of her, and return to my natural size.

  Kandess the Daring stumbles back at my sudden appearance, but before she can spout off any more of her courageous nonsense, I hold up my hands to silence her and say, “Brave Kandess, there is indeed a task that only the truest of warriors can complete for me.”

  “That’s more like it!” She beams and bobs her head, causing her huge nimbus of pink hair to bob with her. “What’s the problem?”

  “I…” My mind goes blank. Of course it does. I can’t lie, and I haven’t had to think quickly on my feet in ages. “I… lost my knitting needle.” This is true, I did lose a needle once, and while it only took me a moment to make a replacement, the original is still missing. My prime suspect remains a certain gray dormouse I have named Norbert the Needle Nibbler. “I ask that you find it and return it to me for a most handsome reward.” Returning to wherever she came from without being killed by the Queen is a fairly handsome reward, in my mind.

  “Was it stolen by a wizard? Is it a magic needle?” The girl’s eyes are practically sparkling with curiosity and eagerness.

  “A magic needle? Oh, well, indeed, yes.” I nod. “From a certain point of view.” It turns spider-silk into comfy sweaters, and I think that’s pretty magical. Sort of.

  “Where did you last see your needle?” she asks.

  “I don’t quite remember, but you might begin your search near a ring of red-capped mushrooms.”

  The knightly girl’s smile vanishes. “Seriously? Is this some kind of trick? Your needle is back where I came in on this level?”

  I sigh and look away to the faint stars in the east. I hate playing at words like this, dancing around the truth. It tires me so much. It’s one of the many reasons why my only two friends in the world are river hags. “You know, once upon a time mortals came to this realm through proper portals in sacred groves, and they were filled with fear and awe at the sight of true, living magic. But now you come here through your sim games and all you care about is grinding, and leveling, and aggro. And what is aggro, anyway?”

  “Wait, what?” Kandess stares at me. “Back up a sec. Things here just got super meta. What kind of game is this?”

  “One that I am not enjoying.” I point back toward the mushroom ring. “You have to leave now. It isn’t safe for you, or me, even here in the borderlands.”

  “Wait, you’re no NPC. Are you another player? Or an admin?”

  “Go, please!” I want to steer her back toward the trail, but I don’t dare touch her steel-clad arm. Being this close to so much iron is giving me a headache. I need a cup of tea!

  “No.” She grins and folds her arms over her chest. “What if I stay right here? What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Thunder booms across the twilight sky and a dark figure appears in the shadows just a stone’s throw away from us. The warrior is armored in midnight plate, no hint of flesh exposed, no glimpse of face offered. All we can see is the obsidian armor and the obsidian blade of the Dark Queen’s champion.

  A burning lump forms in my throat as my flesh runs cold, and I whisper, “That can.”

  “Wicked! Who the hell is this guy?” Kandess asks. “Some kind of Black Knight?”

  I don’t answer. I run.

  There isn’t time to feel guilty about leaving the human girl to her fate. There isn’t even time to think of leaving her behind as bait to cover my escape. I just run.

  BOOM!

  I stumble to a halt only a few dashed paces from where I began, frozen at the sight before me. Where there were shadows a moment ago, now there is a tall warrior armored not in heavy plate but in light shimmering chainmail crafted of golden, gossamer threads woven through the cast-off scales of the Dawnspire dragons. In his fist the warrior grasps a spear so terrifyingly bright that it has no form beyond the blinding white shape of the shaft and blade.

  And the girl called Kandess calls out, “Sweet! Who the hell is that?”

  “The…” I swallow as I straighten up and curl my hands into fists to steady them. “The Bright Lance, champion of the Bright King.” I exhale slowly. “And also… my former fiancé.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Kandess observes. “Is it a bad thing?”

  “It is,” I agree. “It is a very bad thing.”

  “Well, maybe you should try to… Hey, Shell-head, back off! Yeah, you! Hya! Have at thee!” Kandess shouts at the Black Knight, waving her sword in wild circles over her head. The Knight growls something back at her, but I can’t hear it, I can’t even watch the duel erupting behind me at all because my eyes are fixed on the golden warrior standing before me. I can barely breathe. I’d forgotten what he was like to look upon.

  “MeadowRue?” The Lance smiles his perfect smile, displaying his perfect white teeth, dazzling against the light golden hairs of his close-cropped beard and his long flowing golden hair. “Ah, MeadowRue. Together again, at long last. You know, the King tripled the price on your head after you went over to the Dark Court, but now that I see you with my own eyes again, I don’t know if I can bear to surrender you to him. Perhaps I will keep you for myself, as was intended from the very start.”

  “No, I will not go with you.” I can barely say the words. I know I have no power to defeat him. Escape is my only hope, and a threadbare hope at that.

  “So what’s the deal here?” Kandess yells over the clangor of her battle with the Black Knight. “Are these guys working together?”

  “No.” I shake my head, unable to tear my eyes away from the golden face of the Lance. “They each want us for their masters. And should either one capture us, I fear they will take your soul… and my head.”

  “Wow, wicked plot line. Sounds like we’ve got a decent boss fight on our hands. You’re some sort of spellcaster, right?” Kandess sounds more than calm, she almost sounds excited, barely focused on her duel at all. “Think we can beat these guys together?”

  I shake my head, still staring at the Lance, who begins walking slowly toward me, still flashing that dazzling smile, still grasping his blinding spear. “No. We have no chance of victory, not in a hundred worlds, not in a thousand lifetimes.”

  Kandess sighs. “All right, Debbie Downer. I guess I’ll handle them both on my own. Watch how a first-class tank operates solo!”

  She lunges at the Black Knight and I hear the sharp clangor of blade on blade grow louder and faster behind me, but still I keep my eyes on the Lance.

  “You know,” he says casually. “You never really told me why you wouldn’t marry me. Have you thought of a reason yet? Or are you really just a traitor at heart?”

  “I told you my reason the day I left,” I say, trying to keep my voice as calm as his and not betray my quaking nerves. “I am a living soul, and I refuse to be treated as a pawn in your Court games.”

  �
�You were created by the King himself to be my wife,” he points out.

  “I was also created with free will, and as long as my will is my own, I will not marry you or any other tyrant who orders when he should ask, and who cannot comprehend the meaning of the word No.” The words sound bolder than I feel. I want to run. I should be running.

  Behind me the duel between the two knights carries on, and I can hear Kandess huffing and gasping for breath now as she dashes and lunges through the brambles.

  “We all have our roles to play,” the Lance says. He extends his empty hand to me. “And if you return to your proper place now, and beg our forgiveness, you may yet live the grand life intended for you. I still love you, MeadowRue.”

  I laugh. Really laugh, right in his face. I can barely believe I’m doing it, but I can’t help but laugh at him now, and more than a little of my fear shakes out with the laughter. “You love me? You don’t even know me. We barely spoke a dozen words in the Bright Court. Back then, I barely knew myself. How can you possibly love me?”

  “Because you are lovely beyond compare.” He smiles, still holding out his hand.

  “What sort of idiotic answer is that?” I pass my hand over my face and take on the features of the wretched goblin woman that I wore when I served the Dark Queen and deceived the last mortal girl. “Am I lovely now? I am still myself, but few would call me lovely.”

  The Lance’s handsome smile twists into a mask of seething rage. “You will wear your true face, and you will return to the Bright Court with me to answer for your crimes!”

  Just then a terrific crash of steel on stone turns my head and I see Kandess lying dazed on the ground with the Black Knight standing over her. But instead of delivering the killing blow, the Knight marches toward us, saying, “Stand down, Lance. The Queen commands that MeadowRue be returned to the Dark Court to suffer for her broken oaths.”