“Someone! Anyone! Help me! Oh, please, please, Redcap, let me go! I am not worth anything to you! I will give you magics. I will give you treasures, but only let me go!” she cried, tears rolling down her face in fright.
Her captor laughed and waved a wicked-looking pikestaff in her face, enjoying her fear.
“Stupid Dryad! It has been a long time since I have had a good meal, and my cap is starting to fade. Why would I let you go?” he sneered.
The weapon, a dented and scratched bronze metal spike on a rod about as long as he was tall, looked sharp despite its apparent neglect. It had to be a prop, though—the police would never allow somebody to carry something like that openly on the streets. I gulped and hoped I was right.
I stepped into the open space behind the man, pulling my leg free from some vines that had somehow managed to tangle around it. “H–hey! Hey, you! I think things have gone far enough—let her go!”
The woman stopped crying and looked at me, hope replacing the fear in her green eyes. The red-capped man straightened and turned around to see who had spoken.
His large red eyes, which had to be from contacts, drilled into me as he bared sharpened teeth in a terrible grin. “So! Who dares to intrude? A sickly Elf?” He peered closer at me, and a look of what I’d swear was surprise mixed with eagerness crossed his face. “No … it’s a female Human peasant!”
He screamed a wordless challenge and charged at me, pikestaff lowered.
Whoa!
Frightened by both his appearance and his aggression, I jumped back. His attack missed. I swung my bag off my shoulder intending to use it to deflect him, but one look at the pikestaff convinced me it wouldn’t work. I dropped it and looked frantically around for something I could use. Luckily just then an ash tree limb about the length of a sword dropped near me from up above. I scooped it up as the man spun around to rush forward again. Using the stick like an épée, I whipped the wood in between his legs as I dodged him again. I smiled tightly when he stumbled and fell with a bellow of pain, but I lost that smile as the branch was ripped out of my hands and sailed out of reach. He regained his feet and whirled back around, gnashing his sharpened teeth.
“Please, stop!” I begged, my heart hammering in my chest as I searched for something, anything, with which to protect myself.
I briefly noticed the woman screwing up her face as if she was concentrating hard, but I forgot about her as he pointed his pikestaff at me again. He hurtled forward, yelling wordlessly. Strangely, a root from one of the oak trees rippled up out of the ground, and I felt a shiver go up my back at the same time. It didn’t quite catch his foot to make him trip, but it was enough to make him spin his arms to keep his balance. That cost him his grip on the pikestaff, and it tumbled to the ground.
I didn’t understand what had just happened, but I didn’t care. I took advantage of his stumble by rushing in and grabbing the weapon’s shaft where it had fallen to the ground. The man recovered in time to grab the pikestaff up near the head as I lifted it up, and we struggled in a tug-of-war for its possession. The man was stronger, but I had the advantage of height and leverage. A sudden inspiration came to me from my second-to-last practice bout—the one before the one with Heather today. I twisted my stance sideways while lunging forward with my weight, and I pretended I was holding an épée with both hands. Not expecting this maneuver from me, he also stumbled unexpectedly over my abandoned duffel bag. The pikestaff’s tip pierced his side and tore his ragged jerkin. The man roared in pain and let go in reflex as blood ran down his muddy-colored skin.
Shocked that my ploy had worked, I scrambled backwards a few feet with the weapon in my hands.
“Stop it. Stop it! Just go away and we’ll forget this whole thing ever happened! Okay?!” I pleaded with him.
He growled and curled his fingers forward into imitation claws. He looked like he wanted to rip my throat out.
“First blood, my rescuer! You have the advantage now!” called the trapped woman.
“Shut up, woody! When I finish dealing with this peasant, I will start by eating you first and then killing you!” the man yelled angrily at her while he sized me up.
A fierce protectiveness for the helpless woman rose up in me at his threat, and I found myself charging forward to bring the fight to him. Surprised, he hesitated for a split second. That was enough time for me to jab the pikestaff into his solar plexus. He lashed out in reflex with his long, jagged fingernails and scored four slashes across the left side of my face, just missing my nose. I screamed in pain and jerked my head backwards, sending red drops of blood flying. Snapping my head back up I saw him slump off the blade into a heap on the ground.
Wait, what?
The feelings that had driven me forward vanished. He was supposed to be left hurt and breathless, not lifeless! Like what Heather had wanted to do to me at the Academy! Then it hit me: this wasn’t class, and he wasn’t wearing padding.
The weapon slipped from my nerveless fingers to land beside the body, and I stood frozen over them both. He was dead? No. I couldn’t believe it. I’d killed him? The man lay with arms and legs twisted on the ground, and dark-red blood spread out from beneath him. He sure looked dead. I felt panicky, and my breath came in stuttering gasps. Mixed emotions filled me: revulsion at killing a person, pride at having defended myself from a crazed attacker, guilt and relief at being alive, and a tangled lot of others. I turned away and bent over. The captive woman looked at me with sympathy as I dry heaved onto the leaf-carpeted dirt.
When I was done, she said, “I thank you for your help, my rescuer.”
I stood up on wobbling legs and numbly walked over to her. At least she was safe, and maybe I had prevented a murder or something. I knew at some point I would have to call 911 on my cellphone and explain to the police about what had happened, but freeing the woman right now was the most important thing to do. I awkwardly grabbed hold of the tangle around her. Between the two of us pushing and pulling the knotty ropes and wires, we loosened the snarl enough for her to wriggle out.
Looking back over her shoulder, she shuddered. “It was awful. Awful! Thank you, thank you, for saving my life! What can I do to repay you?”
“What do we do now, about …?” my shaky voice trailed off.
I waved limply at the remains still sprawled out on the ground.
She splayed her hands in an I-don’t-know kind of gesture. Up this close to her, her cat-pupiled eyes were a green so deep that they were almost black. Her skin looked like it had a texture to it, almost like the wood grain on my bedroom bureau. She also had a scent about her that smelled something like Pine-Sol. Her strange appearance mercifully made me forget for a moment what had just happened, and I reached out gingerly to touch her arm. It felt warm, smooth, and had a slight hardness to it.
“Are you some actress or an extra from a Broadway show?” I asked.
She blinked in surprise. “What? Am I an ‘actress’? What do you mean by that?”
“You’re wearing special effects makeup.” I reached out to touch her again.
She looked puzzled. “Makeup? What are you talking about? This is how I always look!”
Mystified, I asked, “You mean you go around like this all the time?”
“I do not know what you are talking about,” the woman frowned. “I would think that everyone would know a Dryad on sight, at least!”
I rocked back on my heels in surprise. “A–a Dryad? A real one? Are you kidding me? What is this, some kind of lame joke or something?”
She sounded insulted as she said, “I assure you; I am a Dryad!”
The woman stretched up her hand, and the branch of the tree above her bowed itself into her grasp. She caressed it, and the twigs rustled as if they enjoyed her touch. I sank to my knees and slumped my shoulders forward in disbelief. My momentary forgetfulness went away and what I’d done crashed back in on me. If she was really a Dryad, was he—or rather, had he been—something other than human, too? My mind felt weir
dly numb as my eyes strayed to the unreal-looking body lying motionless nearby. The mantra my Grandpa Patrick had always quoted while reading to me popped into my head just then: fairytales aren’t always nice.
“So, what happens now? Am I going to be arrested by the cops, or something else? Can I plead self-defense or maybe insanity?” I wondered out loud in a weak voice.
The wood nymph, if she really was one, looked at me with concern. “I still do not understand your words. Oh, but you are injured! Let me help you with that!”
She knelt beside me and waved her hand, and some nearby tree roots lifted part way out of the ground to clear away a small patch of old leaves. She traced a couple of strange looking symbols in the bare ground with one hand, and raised the other to my face. I flinched, but the Dryad only whispered a couple of strange sounds that were almost like words. The symbols on the ground flared and disappeared as her fingers started to glow. I blinked, startled as a shiver ran down my spine again. The wood nymph drew those fingers along the gashes the man’s fingernails had torn in my skin, and a cooling tingle was left behind where she touched. Incredibly, the stinging and bleeding faded slowly away—even the other cuts on my skin that I’d gotten earlier from running through the woods gradually closed up.
I froze from sheer amazement.
The Dryad looked in puzzlement at my wounds as if expecting something else to have happened, but she only said, “There! Now, how may I reward you for rescuing me?”
“I will take care of that,” said a warm, golden voice behind us both.
CHAPTER 3
Startled, I spun around on my knees, scattering the dead leaves behind me. Then I gaped. There stood a gorgeous, slender, rosy-skinned woman with golden-blond hair flowing down around her almost to the forest floor. She was dressed in a gown made of pale green fog, and had a draped girdle belt of refracted light cinching it around her tiny waist and hips. She also had huge white and gold colored wings, long pointed ears, and slanted green eyes that twinkled as I fell over forwards, astonished. I caught myself before I did a face plant in the dirt.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the wood nymph beside me fold herself into a deep curtsey. The first thing that popped into my mind was ‘Elf’ as I looked at the vision in front of me, since she looked a lot like how I’d always pictured one. Then I mentally shook my head ‘no’. Elves didn’t have wings—at least, none did in the fantasy stories that I knew.
“What … who are you?” I asked with wonder as I sat up slowly on my heels.
For some reason, it didn’t occur to me to be afraid. There was an indefinable air about the winged being that made me feel protected and calm.
“I am Caelestis,” the vision said.
I was flabbergasted that she answered me, but the answer itself didn’t help.
Caelestis said to the Dryad, “You are safe now, Oakalyn. Return to your tree without fear.”
The winged Elf waved a hand, and the body, trap, and pikestaff disappeared from the clearing. My eyes widened further.
“Yes, O Goddess. Thank you,” the wood spirit said gratefully.
Leaning over and planting a kiss on the top of my head, the Dryad rose and went to the largest oak tree of the clearing. She caressed the trunk with her right hand, and then melted into it. I stared with astonishment for a moment at where she had disappeared, but then the word ‘goddess’ penetrated my brain. I turned back to where the winged Elf still stood.
Caelestis gave me a gentle smile. “Now, My dear, let Me inform you that you have accomplished that which has not been done since its creation. You, a Human, have activated an ancient mist gate and crossed the Disjoin. Having done so, Analise Lynden Baxter, you would fall first under My province since I was once closest to your kind.”
Ancient mist gate? Crossed some sort of something or other? I didn’t cross over anything while I was running, not even a road or a jogging path! And how did she know my full name, never mind any part of it? I’d always introduced myself as ‘Lise’ to people, so almost no one outside my family knew me as ‘Analise’, but no one had said my name at all since I came to Central Park.
“Wha–what are you talking about?” I asked.
“Were you in distress in the vicinity of a gate?” she inquired.
“No! Oh, wait ….” My mind flashed back to the electrical jolt I’d gotten crossing the mushroom circle. Had that been some sort of on/off switch? “I was running away from someone who wanted to hurt me, but I didn’t mean to activate anything!”
Caelestis shook her head. “It does not signify whether you intended to activate it or not. The mist gates operate by their own lights to allow entry to this realm. I must also inform you that you are not the only one to cross over. Another managed to flounder through the same entrance.”
THAT made me sit up and take notice—had it been the thief, or the sunbather? I jumped to my feet, ready to run again in either case.
“Be calm, My dear,” the self-proclaimed goddess soothed, one slender hand upraised as if to stop me. “You and he have been separated. Do not worry about the gate. We have dealt with it so that no other may now enter.”
I stared at her until the words connected together in my brain. “Wait, what? Are you seriously telling me that I am not in Central Park!? And what do you mean, ‘we dealt with that gate’? What gate? What ‘we’?”
Serenely patient, she said, “We, the Concordance of Deities of this world, have closed that by which you entered.”
“WHAT!? WHY?!”
“Through the opening We saw yet another Human approaching close upon the heels of your pursuer, and We did not wish anyone else from your world to enter ours.”
“But, but–I need to go home! My parents will be missing me soon as dinner rolls around! They’ll file a Missing Person’s with the police! An Amber Alert will be issued! People will search through Central Park for me! They might even dredge the reservoir! I can’t stay here!”
Caelestis looked at me with regret in her brilliant green eyes. “I am truly sorrowful, Analise, but it is out of My hands. Though We have the power to close a gate, the power to open one lies across the Disjoin in the Human realms; though until now it has gone unused. It was one of the balances necessary in its creation to ….”
“No! No! I don’t believe you! It’s got to still be there!” I cried, interrupting her.
There was a hysterical note in my voice, but I didn’t care. I turned around and dashed back in the direction I’d come. I knew I was going the right way when I passed the log where I’d camouflaged myself, and I made it back quickly to the two huge oaks.
There was no mysterious shimmering stretched between them anymore.
I crumpled to my knees. Caelestis had told me the truth, but I didn’t want to accept that. I wanted to go home! Home to my parents who loved me, and to my cat that would need to be fed tonight. The enormity of what had happened hit me, and I started sobbing.
Warm hands encircled my shoulders, and I was pulled into Caelestis’ gentle embrace. A spicy fragrance filled the air as the ‘goddess’ held me, stroking my hair and humming a wordless soothing comfort until I had cried myself out. It took a long time. A large, snow-white linen handkerchief was pressed into my hands when I was ready for it, and I took it to wipe my face and blow my nose.
“S-so, since I somehow jump-started some sort of magic gate, am–am I in the fairylands now?” I asked, looking up at her numbly.
Caelestis tilted her golden head to one side as she stood and pulled me to my feet. “Calling it the fairy realm is as good a name as any other. And to allay any fears you may have, do not be concerned about not being able to understand what is said around you here. The moment you crossed the gate you stopped speaking whatever Human tongue you spoke. You now speak Eliv, the language everyone understands.”
I blinked. I wasn’t speaking English anymore? It sounded like I was speaking English, and that she was, too. How … weird.
Surprise and curiosity trumped my sadness
for the moment. “I feel silly for asking, but you aren’t–human–are you? Are you really a–a goddess? And since you said the guy who was chasing me is somewhere else, am I safe here?”
Her eyes twinkled. “Yes, My child. I am not a Human and am a Goddess, as the Dryad so named Me. ‘Safe’ is only a relative term, but you are safe here for now.”
“Sorry. It’s just kind of hard to believe, that’s all—I mean, another world?” I raised my hands in weak amazement, fluttering the soggy handkerchief.
“I do understand. But I think you will grow to believe it.” She smiled. “In any event, We were aware when the mist gate activated, and had just started to close it when you and the other crossed. The decision was made by the Concordance that I should decide your fate, so I chose to observe you at first. Therefore, the Dryad that had fallen into mortal peril with the Redcap was, by happenstance, the perfect proving ground to show Me what you are made of. I am happy that you passed your trial even if you did not know you were being tested.”
“Would you have saved me if it looked like the Redcap was going to kill me?”
Caelestis smiled a mysterious smile. “Something would have intervened on your behalf, yes.”
“Would you have rescued the Dryad if I hadn’t?”
She shook her golden hair. “I would not have. The forests are not My domain, and to interfere divinely might cause Those to whom they belong to become upset. We Deities are powerful; but We are not, individually, all-powerful nor all-knowing. What if Sylvanelle, the forest guardian, had had a hidden reason for Oakalyn to fall into the Redcap’s trap? What if I would have upset it by rescuing her? That might then cause Sylvanelle to seek out and disturb something of Mine, which could then escalate and lead to hostilities which could affect the world. This is why the Divine have mortal representatives: you may interfere where We should not, because a mortal’s free will allows choice of actions where a Deity may have none.”
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