The Girl in the Ghost house - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“What happened?” Evelyn asked, sitting down on the small three legged stool next to the bathtub.

“It was a long time ago.” William picked Trevor up and patted him, “I got stuck in the ghost house. And I had only a few hours to get out. Just like you. And I figured out about the keys and the Man with the Music Box and that all I needed was the telephonoscope. But when I asked the Professor for it he wouldn’t give it to me.”

“Why?” Evelyn asked, “He seems like a nice old man.”

“Because he’s scared of the Thing with Black Wings.” William whispered and the dripping of the water into the tub echoed all around. “I tried to convince him but he just wouldn’t give it to me. So I made a different plan. But I ran out of time before I could finish it.”

“What was your plan?” Evelyn asked, her stomach feeling sick as she thought about the big, black grandfather clock in the hallway downstairs. She only had two more chimes left to get the key back.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” William said sadly, “There’s no hope. We can never get our keys back.”

Trevor hung his little head sadly and covered his eyes with his tiny paws. Faucet sighed and his shoulders slumped. The water dripped into the bathtub and echoed around the dark room. And Evelyn thought about her mother and her father and how she would never be able to see them again. And then she looked past William, to the window in the wall. And she saw something outside and jumped up.

“Alright stop that! All of you!” And they all started a bit at her yelling, “We can’t just give up! We can’t let the Singing Lady win. We still have time! Two hours. Two hours to figure something out!”

“But it’s hopeless.” William whispered.

“There’s always hope.” Evelyn said walking to the window and pointing towards the night sky, “See that star? That’s the North Star. My parents would take me out stargazing and we would lie down on a blanket in a farm field and they would tell me all about the stories of the stars. That star was called Hope by people because if they ever got lost they could use it to find their way back home. They didn’t give up hope and kept trying. And we have to keep trying too!”

Faucet’s gears clicked and whirred. Trevor looked up and his whiskers twitched. And William turned around in the bathtub and looked away from Evelyn. She thought he was still sad and didn’t want to help.

“William, please.” She stepped closer, “If there is anyway–– what are you doing?”

William was busy winding a lever on the inside of the bathtub. The inside was covered in gears that were all turning and spinning. William looked sideways at Evelyn and smiled.

“Fine. I’ll help you. Here, can you turn that lever over there?” He pointed to a far away one in the corner. “And Faucet I need you to clear those boxes and the stool off the floor. Trevor, you know what to do.”

Trevor appeared below the bathtub and ran between the legs. The bathtubs legs were cared lion claws resting on round balls. And as Trevor passed each claw he pulled a pin out of them. And the round balls under the claws started to turn loosely.

"Alright Faucet we need to face out towards the door." William called as he kept cranking, a large pole rising above the tub. It had a propeller like a fan at its end. William grabbed a bag from inside the tub and threw it to Evelyn. "Here can you stick those on the blades?"

Evelyn opened the bag and the smell of flowers came out of it. She reached in and pulled out a golden hued toffee, "They're the same ones from the conservatory."

"Exactly." William grinned as Faucet pushed the tub around to face the door with its nose. "Faucet, you need to secure the door before Evelyn starts licking the toffees."

"I don't understand." Evelyn pulled out a handful of flower toffees as Faucet walked over to the door and leaned against it with his clockwork body.

"It's okay." William took one and licked it and stuck it to the blade of the fan. From outside there was a rustling sound as more moths arrived and clashed against the door. "Just trust me."

"Alright." Evelyn took the bag and started licking the candies and sticking them to the blades. There was more rustling behind the door an it strained. Faucets gears were clicking and turning more as he kept the door closed.

"Alright Trevor, get ready!" William yelled as he picked up an axe from inside the tub. Evelyn hasn't noticed it before. She also realized that she hasn't noticed the rope next to the wall before. Or the massive chandelier above them.

"Umm William." She said as she stuck the last candy on the blades, "What's your plan?"

William smiled and yelled, "Now Faucet!!!!"

Then several things happened at once. Faucet threw open the door as a wave of the glowing white moths burst in, swarming at the candy on the blades. The blades started to spin as the moths rushed against it going faster and faster. The spinning fan moved the gears in the tub round and round and this caused the round balls under the lion claws to spin fast too. But the tub wasn’t going anywhere. That was when William brought the axe down hard on the rope that caused the chandelier to fall. It smashed into the floor behind them, the wood under the chandelier broke and seesawed, pushing the  tub off. That was all it needed.

“Hold on!” William called as the tub shut forward.

The burst through the bathroom door, the moths still swarming around the blade and causing them to shoot forward faster. William grabbed Evelyn and leaned them both sideways. This caused the tub to start turning as they hit the hallway. He was trying to get it to turn towards the Singing lady’s door. The door that was still bursting with flame. But they weren’t turning far enough.

“We’re not going to make it!” William called as he pulled Evelyn down, “Put your head down!”

And then the tub smashed through the door. but it wasn’t the Singing Lady’s door. It smashed through the door that went up to the attic. They careened up the stairs and burst through the Attic door into the Professor’s study.The tub fell sideways and Evelyn tumbled out. William climbed up the tub and sat on it’s side. Trevor appeared, shaking and chittering very angerily at William.

“Now you’ve done it!” The Professor was angry and at first Evelyn thought he was angry at her, “You foolish boy, now the Thing with Black Wings can get up here much easier!”

“It could have come up here if it really wanted to anyway.” William snorted, “And even if it did get you, it would serve you right!”

Evelyn was shocked. She had never seen the Professor or William as angry before as they were toward each other. The Professor turned away and was busy tinker with a gear, but he was obviously so mad that he just snapped his screwdriver before he threw it to the side. William just sat and turned his back, folding his arms. Trevor tried to talk to him, but William didn’t respond at all. Evelyn sighed.

“Okay, i’m sorry you two are mad at each other. but please.” And she stood in between them, “I only have two hours left to get my key back
. And i really need both of your help.”

The boy William turned a bit but then looked away. The Professor was looking at his broken screwdriver but didn’t say anything.

“Please.” Evelyn said again.

“Alright, fine.” The Professor said, putting the screwdriver down, “But how am I supposed to help you? I can’t leave my chair.”

“Well, I was wondering if I could borrow your telephonoscope.” Evelyn said giving her biggest smile.

“Absolutely not.” The Professor said as he stroked his bog moustache. “It’s completely out of the question!”

“i told you.” William shook his head,.

“Please.” Evelyn tried again, “I know you are using it to try and protect yourself from the Thing with black Wings but I really need to use it. Isn’t there something else you could use to protect yourself?”

“No.” the Professor took a sip from his teacup. “There isn’t.”

“But what did you use before you had the telephonoscope?” Evelyn asked, “I mean, you couldn’t have always had it.”

The professor took a long sip, “Well, that’s true I guess.”

This caused William to look up as the Professor kept talking, “But I can’t use that tool anymore.”

“Why not?” Evelyn asked, feeling sure that there must be a way for her to get the telephonoscope.

“It’s broken.” The Professor said crossly.

“Then we can fix it.” Evelyn said looking to William for help.

“It’s not that simple.” The Professor said, “Its missing a very vital part and its been gone so very long...”

“What is the tool?” Evelyn asked.

From behind them they could hear the familiar clicking and whirring coming up the stairs. Evelyn turned and William turned and they both had the same idea at the same time. They both realized what tool the Professor had been talking about. The broken one. The one missing its part. The clockwork man walked up the stairs slowly and sighed as the professor answered them/

“It is Faucet.”

 

The Thanksgiving of 1953

Maude sits in front of the glass and looks into her own eyes. They are grey. But not a flat kind of grey. No. They are the kind of grey that changes color depending on the light in the room and the time of day and whether it is raining or sunny outside. Her eyes move away from her eyes and move across her head. Her face. Her hair. Her lips. She takes it all in. And she wonders if she is doing the right thing. Her eyes trace down her lips, across her chin, to her neck. And the ugly purple and green bruise that is forming there.

There was a time when she would have defended Richard. She would have said that he didn’t mean to be so rough. That he didn’t know his own strength. That he would never want to hurt any of them. But it has been a long time since she has felt like defending him to others. Or to herself. Instead, she reaches for the make up and applies the cover like a mask across her neck that says everything is okay. Everything is fine.

The Killer

Miss Emily's father was a pharmacist, a man of science, back when men of science were neither feared nor respected. His pay was small and he taught classes at the college for the younge men who had not had polio when they were children and had been healthy enough to go to war in far off places called Europe and Iwo Jima and had now returned heroes and victors and had come back to collect their just rewards, their new homes and cars and jobs and careers rung out of the education they were now being given by the men who did not leave, could not leave. Those self same men of science like Miss Emily 's father were the men of science and men of action and who had truly ended the war with two massive displays of science that were still sending shockwaves rippling through history's tides. They were the men of science who would eventually become the ones, the feared and respected. But Miss Emily's father was not one of them. He was small. Always had been a small man. And even when he stood tall he was still a small man on the inside.

Miss Emily's mother had come from a family of bakers. Growing up she never had the hardships her husband had. She had tasted sugar every day since she was two. How she kept her girlish frame through all the years was a secret her mother only shared with her and when the time came she also showed Miss Emily the way in which a woman could eat what she want and keep her form as long as she was subtle. No one was more subtle than her mother.

They must have met over a shared interest in mixing. She mixed hands full of flour and sugar and egg and butter. He mixed tubes of sulpheric oxide and ammonia phosphate. And so with their natural tendency, no, their love for mixing things it is no wonder that their lives mixed together and they were married soon after and had Miss Emily soon after that And so she grew and her mother baked apple pies with thick, rich buttery crumble on top and tried to pretend not to hear the rumors of how "miraculous" it was that a full grown child could be born four months prematurely and how didn't the little miss Emily have the greenest eyes they had ever seen, nothing like the eyes of her father but more the eyes of the good for nothing tramp Henry Phillips that had been her mothers sweetheart before he had abruptly left town, joined the navy, deserted, and soon after her mother and father had started their mixing. Just in time, they might add. She kept baking her buttery apple pies and pretended not to hear the looks.

But Miss Emily's mother was not the only one to hear the talk. Her father was a man of science and had to live under the mockery of the returned young men who neither knew nor cared that men of science were now beings to be feared, beings to be respected, beings who could level entire cityscapes and leave haunted skyscrapers with empty eye sockets. And he had to endure the taunting looks of their young wives as they looked at his wife and his daughter and talked more and more of the man named Henry Phillips with his green eyes. And he started to see his daughter, little Miss Emily in a new light. Her eyes were nothing like his own dark ones. They were indeed the most emerald green he had ever seen. And the devil slowly entered his heart though those dark eyes of his .

For he dared to think surely this is not flesh of my flesh or bone of my bone or eye of my eye. No, the abandoned refuse of another man, one of those who had come back from the war, bragging about how many babies they would bring upon the world now. Unaware of the apprehensive look their wives had when they said this. But he had seen the look. And it seemed that all at once his path was clear before him. Everyone of his problems aligned into the perfect solution. So he began to work late at night in his study. He studied new chemicals and made some of his own. He did research and found the old recipes from ancient times in old tomes. And he extracted the 13th volatile from the pomegranates in his backyard. And finally he had the first of the little brown vials. He was ready to begin his tests.

Years passed and it was the glorious summer of free love when vans of kids with guitars and hashish crawled across the countryside spreading the gospel of love and marajuana. But they were shocked to come to a town untouched by tiedye and the smell of weed. An untouched corner of America where the old men who had once been young men who came back from the war as victors now looked out on the empty swing sets they had built and the unused tricycles in their garages with old and empty eyes. Their wives eyes and bodies were still young and untouched by the marring of bearing child after child after child. And there was one man of science in the town who knew and kept the secret of their youth. One old man of science who had the most subtle of wives who slid the small dark vials into the corners of the basket that held her buttery apple pies. He was a man of science and finally respected.

The lack of children should have been a warning. Instead it was like a magnet. Bus after bus brought these new men who did not shave or have gleaming eyes for war in far off places. And the new women who wove their hair with flowers and knew the secret ways and had no need for the small brown vials that were snuck in with the buttery apple pies. And soon Miss Emily's father had no more need to extract the 13th volatile from the pomegranates in their backyard. And he put away his books.

And Miss Emily who was by now a sixteen year old felt herself drawn by curiosity to the strange new additions to the town who wore flowers in their hair and beards on their faces and who slept each night under the stars, wrapped in blankets of thick, hazy smoke rising from a hundred smoldering joints. She began to come to the bonfires. Then she began to spend the nights under the stars in her own hazy blanket. That was how she first met him.

Night Ceremony

I did exactly as I was told. I pulled the red shorts on that were too big. Red, they had said, symbolizes the red earth, the red blood, the red rage of war. The shorts were a bit too big but that didn't matter, they said, no they were the only red ones I had so they would have to do. Then came the black shirt (black for night, death, sleep, and the hidden things) and the green hoodie (had to be a hoodie, something with a hood, they said, because we would not want to offend the headless by appearing with our heads visible).

The next part involved supplies. It was a laundry list that could have been ordinary for any kind of hike. Except this hike was happening at night. Midnight to be precise. On August 1st, the night of the first full moon. The night that was marked by ancient people as Lammas, the first of the Autumn feasts. But I didn't know that at the time and I really didn't care. I was just doing as they had told me.

You will need a candle, she had said, as she fleeted around the edged of the mirror frame, and a knife to slice it in two. Two candles now, that had been one. The one I placed in front of the mirror. The other, I slid in my pocket. Next was the bottle. Full of ice cold water, straight from the fridge. I poured it over my hands, my feet, my head. That was for purifying, they had said. Apparently taking a normal bath wasn't good enough. But then again, they have a lot of funny rules when it comes to this kind of stuff. Like making sure all the water fell on some kind of dirt. I just used a potted plant. That would do, right?

Next came the lighter, lighting the candle in front of the mirror, I slid it into my pocket next to the candle half. Then I took the water bottle and filled it with water from the tap. Back in front of the mirror she told me, now hold the water over the flame and pass it through it thrice. Thrice? Really? Who says that anymore? Why not just three times? But I did and it changed color, turning an amber gold. She seemed to approve.

You're a fast learner for a boy, she sniffed, even though in my time we did not let boys take the walk. I asked her why not but she wouldn't say. Instead she ordered me more (pour some out into a cup, its called a libation) and then curled into the mirror with silver tendrils. Sometimes I wished my grandmother had never given me the mirror. But not tonight, tonight it was finally going to pay off. All the months and months of befriending the girl who appeared in the reflection, peaked around corners in the mirror at me.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the final thing required. A piece of bread. She had said it should be fresh baked but this was the best I could do on short notice. I walked down the stairs and out the door but as I was about to close it I heard a soft sussurus on the wind. I waivered. She appeared in tendrils of silver.

You cannot leave yet, she spoke to me in haunting underwater echoes, you must drink of the bottle in your hand, so that you may have protection. I didn't realize I would need protection, but I took a swig anyway. Whatever the water had turned into it tasted very much like the rum and raisin pie my mom had always made when I was young. But it was much less sweet, with the force and the burn of a thousand fires tickling my tonsils and burning down my esophagus to go lie in my stomach like a sliver of molten led glowing at my core.

Now you are safeguarded until you reach the stones, she said and was gone in her tendrilly way, as I moved away from the door and down the road. It was a familiar road, but as all things take on a haunted look in the pale contrasting light of the full moon, I now found this road to be omniously chilling. I stepped on anyway.

The air was motionless, no wind to make the leaves scratch along the concrete. Which made it sound a million times louder when I stepped on one of the crunchy ones. But there wasn't time to stop and freak out properly. I knew where they wanted me to go. I had known somehow, even before they had told me. There would be the ridge and the blackberry bushes and the old stones sitting on top of each other on the trail that ran on the ridge above the houses. I had been there a few weeks before when the very first blackberries had come into fruit. Tonight the air would be heavy and warm with their sweet perfume.

But my thoughts were interrupted by the voice wheezing beside me from the thinnest air as it breathed, In ancient times we would go up in hordes. Thousands and Thousands of us would go and make a bonfire on  the hill and we would drink the water of life and we would dance naked under the stars and the bright silver moon. But that was a long time ago and now only we ghost are left to walk with you up the hill, it wheezed as it flew by. To anyone else it looked like a dragonfly. Though of course real dragonflies don't fly around at night. Not like these. They rose around me, Thousand and Thousands of them as I kept walking to the cul de sac where the road ended and the trail would begin.

Beware the Hound of God who guards the way, breathed the ghosts as they flitted away on false dragonfly wings. There was no hound in sight. Nothing but a porche parked on the curb next to where the trail started. It sat and its glossy coat of paint radiated sleek sharpness against the pale black of night. It was a whole other shade of black. A black that could cut life a knife and still gleam with hunger.

"Hound of God you say?" I whispered to the still night.

That Morning At the DMV, Sixteen Years Ago

There was a swoosh and air tumbled over her. Air that was just too cold and had just too much a taste of Lysol to mask the underlying odor. Human. Undeniable, unmistakable. This place reeked of their stench. At least. That's what she told herself. She walked towards the counter at the center of the room.

The woman who sat there looked like she hadn't moved from the spot since the late 1970s. Her hair, her makeup, her clothes. Those half-moon glasses  she wore low on the bridge of her nose. The tired and annoyed way she looked up. This woman whose time was apparently so important that she couldn't even muster a smile for the people walking through her line.

"What you here for, hon?" Her voice was nasally and flat.

The girl standing in front of her counter looked no older than twenty. Red hair pulled back in a ponytail. Leather jacket that was just a bit too big draped over her shoulders. A red and white flannel shirt tied above her exposed bellybutton. Torn and faded jeans that were turned up above her pair of leather boots. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of reflective aviators as she looked down at her watch.

"Renewal of registration." Her voice was lower than one would expect from her frame. "What time do you have?"

"You'll just need to take a number and wait over there." The woman droned as she pulled a number from a ticket dispenser and ignored the other question. "Wait time is about four hours. Hope you brought a book or something."

The girl walked forward and planted both her hands firmly on the counter, people in line looking over and whispering as they saw her. She leaned forward and if people hadn't know better they would have thought her neck, her whole frame, seemed to stretch a bit as she leered at the woman. She bent her head ever so slightly forward, letting the sunglasses slide just an inch or so down her nose. But that was all it took.

Deep in the shadow of the sunglasses her irises burned a bright red, as if they were two live coals cooking at the center of their dark sockets. Her hair suddenly seemed redder, her canines of her teeth seemed longer. For a moment, the leather jacket looked less like a jacket and more like a pair of leathery wings folded across her back. Just for a moment. No one even seemed to see it. Most were busy holding up "Oregon Driver's Manual" or "Bike Rules of the Road" booklets.

The Mission Before Everything Changed

"Move! Move move move!" The shouts echoed down the corridor as the sudden flash was followed by smoke and a loud bang.

"Go! Enide! Take out the weapons." This is me. Taking out the weapons.

By weapons she means the guards who are supposed to prevent any thieves from getting into the vault. Thieves like us. Not that we're really thieves. But they won't see it that way so there's no time to talk it over. I move fast, my arm cracks like a whip, and the sound that his jaw makes provides the perfect accompaniment. It only takes a second before the other one is on the floor too. I'm not even breathing hard yet. 

This is me. 

The Orphan Princess and the Firelord: Prologue

Prologue

Ever since the mists of the very first grey morning were lit by the silver sun, the Walker has walked between the columns of the arboreal cathedral in the land whose verdant vaults allowed only the faintest slivers of sunlight to drape across the slumbering silver pines, touched by the morning frost. With the frayed edged of the ancient white cowl gently brushing the dew off of the thick carpet of emerald clover, the Walker paced the old paths as he made his way to the very edge of his dominion. There where the trees grew small and the clearings large, and the sky loomed wide and daunting. There where the forest reached its limit to give way to the rolling green hills of heather and thyme, those verdant plains that washed down to the wide azure sea. His white eyes looked knowingly at each leaf and blade of grass with familiarity, as the small group of travelers walked along the snaking gravel path towards his forest.

“There he is! I told you!” he heard the whisper travel towards the forest.

“But how did he know we’d be here?” he let the smile creep across dark, leathery features as he heard the question.

“Shhh! He’ll hear you!” spoke the first voice.

“Hello there. And whose company do I have the pleasure to receive this morning?” he asked as he stepped towards them, careful to remain within the shadow of the forest which was his boundary.

From the group of pilgrims a woman stepped forth, drawing back the brown mantle to reveal the royal red and gold brocade of the Queens of the Islands of the Sunfire Flowers. But the normal slender frame showed the tell-tale signs of one heavy with child. Her hands both rested on her round middle, as she closed the sacred space between her party and the Walker at the Woods.

“Draw no closer, Calendula Sempra Floranium.” he spoke, a commanding note to his voice. “I know why you seek me, but I cannot offer you sanctuary here. Not when you bare within your womb one such as this.”

“Please, milord. I am ill–” she began, taking another step. “I will do anything for the child.”

“I know.” he said, softening his tone, “Shhh. I know. But if you step within the bounds of the forest, it shall claim you and the child as well. And if the child is born within its bounds, she shall not be human. Not anymore.”

“She?” the queen said as tears came to her eyes, “I will bare a daughter?”

“Yes.” he answered, closing his eyes, “I will reveal no more. But you must return here. On the eve of your daughters birth.”

“And my daughter?” the Queen asked hopefully.

“You must leave her behind. She cannot yet set foot in this enchanted forest.” he said, feeling the pain of the Queen’s breaking heart tangibly fill the air.

“As you command, milord.” she said, bowing before she returned to her company.

“Is that it?” asked one of the pilgrims. “A fat lot of help he was!”

“Shhh! Daisy he’ll hear you!” said the other one.

“Well, I don’t care if he does!” she said, revealing her tangled mop of bright red curly hair. “Who does he think he is, talking to our lady like that!”

“He is the Walker in the Woods!” said the other, revealing large round spectacles on his face, “You should be grateful you have been given the honor of even seeing him!”

“Well you may be easily impressed by a white cape and an old face, Edwynn, but if you ask me–” she began again but was cut off when the Queen walked between them.

“Come along. We must make haste and see to all the preparations. The astrologers have foretold that I have until the new moon at most. Everything must be prepared for my daughter.”

************************

And so it was, that on the night of the second waning spring moon, Queen Calendula Sempra Floranium gave birth to her third daughter. And all could see that the child was indeed touched by the Sacred Flame. For unlike her sisters, or all the other children of the Islands of the Sunfire Flower, she was not born tow-headed but with locks as dark as the sands of the fire islands she was destined to rule someday.

But that night, the Queen, still weak from having given birth, leaned over her sleeping daughter, and gave her one last kiss on her beautiful face as she whispered, “Good night, my darling daughter. Someday, we will see each other again. But for now, I cannot linger. The night is already old. Be strong, my daughter. My precious. My sweet Melanie.”

“Your Majesty.” came the voice from the doorway.

“Daisy, watch over her. Make sure she knows that I loved her.” she said turning to the small, red headed figure.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Edwynn, ready the swiftship.” she said, turning to the other. “We must away on the Speeding Tide.”

The morning sun was barely breathing the soft hues of violet and periwinkle into the obsidian sky, when the swiftship landed on the verdant shore. The queen walked up the gravel path once more, leaning heavily upon her companion. As they neared the forest edge, they saw the figure in white standing between the two massive trees that formed the gateway of the arboreal realm.

“Come, Calendula. You have journeyed long in the circles of the seas. Your journey has now reached it’s end. Here in my forest you shall finally know peace. For both your ill body and your burdened mind.” he said holding our his hands to the staggering queen.

“Edwynn. There is one final preparation you must see to.” the Queen said as she grabbed hold of both his hands with her shaking form, “My daughter. You must guard her heart. Find a suitable husband for her. Protect her from those who will seek advancement.”

“I will, of course, milady. But surely now is not–” he began to say as the Queen silenced him with a loud, painful groan.

“Please! Just promise me this! Please.” the Queen said, looking into his concern filled eyes. “Promise me you will keep her heart safe from the wolves.”

“I promise your Majesty.” he said, as the queen closed her eyes and gave a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

Then she turned and staggered towards the forest, falling into the arms of the Walker. And as she did, it was as if instantly strength filled her body. She stood aright again, her grace and poise returned. But a strange green light shone in her once dark eyes as a strange smile spread across her lips.

“Milady! Is there anything else you would have me tell your daughter?” Edwynn called to her as she turned to walk away.

She turned, smiling in a strange, mad grin and spoke in a haunting, echoing voice, “What daughter?” before she disappeared into the dark folds of the greenwood.

“The forest has claimed her now.” spoke the Walker, “She will not recall her old life. It is dead. Better that this new princess know nothing of this. Better that she grow up thinking that her mother died. In childbirth. See to it.”

“Yes. My lord.” he said bowing, and when he looked up, he was all alone at the edge of the forest.

Prisoner of Water: Chapter 6

Even at night the merchants streets that ran through the center of the city of Belotha were full of thousands of merchants and traders, the night air crowded by the sound of their constant shouting and trading and the smell of human sweat, burnt corn, livestock, and dead rats from the gutters. The nights in Belotha were humid and hot and even the faint breath of wind that sometimes ran through the streets was hot and dank and unpleasant.

Sometimes Ismes forgot what the streets outside the gleaming palace walls were like. No, he would never forget. For far too long this had been home. No matter how much he tried to deny it, to fight it, this was where he truly fit in. He blended into the bustling crowd of sweating steaming bodies perfectly, even though he had not been back in years. Not since the murder.

He shook his head and frowned, as if trying to dismiss the thoughts and memories, and instead looked down at the scrap of papyrus in his hand. He unfolded it again and reread the directions nearly printed in Kiza’s elegant hand. He was almost at the location where Kiza said he would meet the Tracer. Ismes still did not like the plan, and he had told Kiza so before he left.

“Ismes, don’t you see, this is the only way to get the power.” she had explained again, “The power, the divine right to rule, is given by the gods to the high priestess. She then marries a man and so the power passes on to him and they become King and Queen. If I sneak into the Temple I can become the high priestess and then gain the power.”

“But it wouldn’t do any good.” Ismes insisted, “Even if you do become the high priestess you still won’t have the power because you’ll have to pass it to the man you marry.”

“When I become high priestess I will hold the power, and I will not have to give it up to any man.” Kiza spoke firmly, “Its been done before, by previous high priestesses, and I will do it again. And besides, think of it this way. If I am in the Temple during this time I will be safe from the Sacrifice.”

“You really think your father won’t see the potential of having you as a pawn in his plans to gain power? What about Zuma? Not to mention the hundreds that are ten-thousand times worse than Zuma at the courts of Lagdjar. Do you really think you can outsmart them all?”

“What other choice do I have? The sacrifice will be required soon. I have to do something.”

~~*~~

The defenders fanned out behind the old woman, as the invaders fell back and did likewise behind the newcomer. From high up the mountain a cold wind whipped around one of the jagged peaks, startling the snow swallows who rose up in a white and grey flurry to soar down on the breeze. The soared down the mighty mountain face, flitting between the crags and down the sheer face of the massive glacier on the moutainside, a solid wall of thick ice that barely clung to the surface. Finally they followed the wind and flew circles around the old woman, before dispersing, as if trying to warn her, protect her.

“Well.” spoke Swampe, “I am not impressed. I was expecting more from you... Magus of Ice!”

Confused looks spread across the faces of the villagers. The wisewoman closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, “Why do you want to kill us?”

“Ha!” Swampe gave a high pitched laugh, “Really! I don’t care what happens to your pathetic village and villagers. I am here for you. To make sure you don’t interfere with our plans.”

The Snow Elders moved up behind Anai’s grandmother and spoke as one, “Do not test the tested. We have weathered more than you upon this mountain. We shall weather you as well.”

“Oh, how quaint. You don’t fool me for one second. I know you are bound by that old hag. Though how I’ll never know.” She spoke, rising into the air. “But it doesn’t really matter because your end will set you free from the human’s bond.”

“You’ll never touch our Elders!” a brave defender yelled and ran forward.

He was soon followed by the remaining defenders, who were repelled in their attack by the quick advance of the invaders. As the men fought, Swampe brought her hands out in front of her as if straining hard against something. Suddenly two of the soldiers beneath her stopped, stood rigid, and in a burt of steam exploded into two balls of churning, levitating murky water.

“Now, lets see how strong your really are, oh great Magus!” she yelled as she raked the air with her long claw-like nails, the two balls forming long spears of gushing water, before launching towards Anai’s grandmother.

~~*~~

Ismes found the tiny tavern in the busy city, literally jammed where an alley would have been between two buildings. The interior was dimly lit and smoke hung thick in the air like the incense in the Temple at Lagdjar. And in a sense this was a Temple too. A Temple to all the dark crafts. There was no better place for hiring someone who was active in them.
Of course, it had been a long time since Ismes had done is fair share. He remembered when he had run away to the city, floundering in the streets as an urchin until he finally found his “street legs” as they called them. But he had learned quickly. Where he had escaped from you always had to learn quickly. Or die. And he had risen as the best pickpocket in Belotha. Even now he knew every tunnel, every passageway through, over, and even under the city.

As he sat down in the corner he began scanning the rows of faces, the huddled corners, the shady characters trying to blend into the shadows. He was sure the Tracer would be in here somewhere. Most likely, already watching him. He had positioned himself where he could not be snuck up on, but even then, he was not sure as to the true capabilities of the Tracers. He had only heard stories. And if half were to be believed, he would have to take every precaution.

The Tracer was Kiza’s idea.

“We need the Tracer.” she said resolutely, “No one else would be able to find her.”

“And why do we need your old nurse?” Ismes asked, grabbing the supplies Kiza had prepared for him.

“Because she was a Tracer and a Priestess in the Temple. If anyone can get me in and find a way to make me High Priestess she can.” Kiza spoke, lowering her voice as she heard footsteps echo down the cool alebaster hallway.

“But where will we find a Tracer? They don’t trust anyone anymore. Not after the Purge.” Ismes spoke, the words tasting bitter as he said them.

“I know a place. I’ve been in contact with a Tracer for a while now. He owes me. Here I’ll write down the place where you’ll meet him. Just follow these directions.”

~~*~~

There was a moment of sudden dread as the crushing of the water spears echoed around the mountainside. But instead of impacting into the frail old woman, a thick mountain of hardened ice had risen in front of her. The Snow Elders stood before it, raising their hands, straining as the ice crackled and hardened, as if being pressed and pushed by their outstreched hands.

“Nicely done.” spoke Swampe. “But you’ll have to do much better if you’re even going to be a challenge for me!”

She raised her clawed hands and three more of the invaders burst into the water and raised to her sides as she hovered over the battlefield, where defenders and invaders were still attacking each other. She spread her hands out in front of her and cut the air from either side, before bringing them together and pointing up with them as if in prayer.

Each of the water balls on her left and right shot out in a thick torrent to hammer against the wall of ice the Elders were making. They held up strong under the onslaught. But the last of the water shot out like an arrow, flying high over the heads of the defenders and invaders, past the Magus and the Elders, even past the village. It flew and gained speed and gleamed in the light as it froze at the high altitude, before plummeting down into the glacier above the village, a massive explosion of snow shooting out in plumes from the mountainside. There was a moment of silence, as all eyes turned to the mountain.

A loud crack echoed around the mountains of Djarmond, accompanied by a series more that increased in frequency and urgency, the sound ear-splitting and blood freezing. From high up the mountain, half of the giant glacier cracked off and plummeted towards the village below.

“Nya!” Anai’s grandmother called, turning towards the mountain and planting her feet.

She raised her hands up, straining as she closed her eyes. The wind suddenly picked up and her hundreds of braids all began dancing in the wind behind her, many of them straining against the tight cloth and leather bands that held them in place. As she grunted, the entire piece of falling ice and snow slowed down and finally stopped. Then she began slowly pushing it back towards the mountain side.

“Impressive!” Swampe called towards the old woman straining as if she was holding the weight of the mountain in her hands, “But how will you defend yourself if you are saving your village from destruction?”

Another round of the water missiles were launched towards her. The Snow Elders repelled the attacks and rose up on platforms of ice to take the fight into the skies to Swampe. The invaders and defenders, while momentarily lulled from battle quickly resumed. And while all this happened, the village stood helplessly and watched the old woman fight gravity to save them all. All except one.

“Anai! Come back!” Josten yelled after her as she slid down the snow towards her grandmother.

~~*~~

A figure moved in the shadows next to Ismes and he nearly jumped from his seat when it sat down across from him at the table. As the black hood with the figure of a leaping puma was pulled back he could not believe his eyes.

“You’re our Tracer?!?”

~~*~~

Zuma walked down the dimly lit palace walls. He came to the door to the Princess’ chambers and placed his hands to the silken door. From within he could smell the scent of the lotuses and water lilies that Kiza always kept in her small indoor pool. He could just distinguish the flicker of her candles within. Slowly, like oil across water, he slid into her chamber.

Across from him he could see the hanging silk and gossamer that set her bedchamber apart from the rest of her living quarters. Within, the soft glow of the candles and lamps around her bed lit the cool alebaster and white silk, turning them shades of gold and peach. Warm tones, like Kiza’s skin, he thought.

As he walked closer, he could see her dark sillouette against the drapery, as she was lying in her bed. This was what he had expected. That after the day’s events, she would come and sulk in her room, trying to plot some form or revenge or escape. But he had come to reassure her once and for all that there would be no escape.

“Kiza.” the words flowed like oiled honey from between his forked tongue. “My Princess.”

There was no response.

“Princess Kiza” he raised his voice slightly, hoping to hear her respond in a frightened tone ‘who’s there?’.

But there was still no response. He grunted as he felt the tinges of panic leap into his heart, scrambling forward and yanking the hangings away.

“You had better be here!” he yelled as he looked down at the bed.

But she was not. A bag filled with millet was placed to resemble her sleeping figure, and on it was stabbed a piece of papyrus, right where her heart would have been on the millet figure. Zuma pulled the dagger out, and looked at the papyrus.

“A Beauty in the Morning, a Princess in the Afternoon, a Hostage in the Eve. But whether she will ever be yours again is uncertain, you’d better believe. If you ever want to see Princess Kiza again, you have to be ready to pay the price. Only her weight in gold will do, no tricks otherwise I won’t play nice. - P”, Zuma read the ransom note aloud.

“A problem for ussss to sssolve?” asked the smokey figure materializing from the shadows behind Zuma.

“Yes.” Zuma said, holding up the blade, “What do you make of this blade?”

“Ahhhh. We have not ssssseen itssss kind in many ssssseasssonsss.” Shekmet hissed, “It belongs to one of us, a Tracer, one who calls himself the Puma-that-leaps-in-the-Night, or Setappep.”

Zuma closed his eyes and grit his teeth as he intoned his words with force on each syllable, “I want you to find this Setappep. I want to know who he works for! Whether the High Chief in Lagdjar or one of my brothers. I want you to find him! Do whatever it takes! And then, I want you to returns Kiza to me, and kill him!”

Food Practices of Encircled Lands

Alexandria:
Alexandria is mainly comprised of small farm communities that raise large expanses of flowers for export around the world for medicinal, aromatic, and display purposes. Most families also maintain a small vegetable garden, though trees are not permitted. The average Alexandrian diet is composed of seed porridge made of flower seeds, vegetables (such as squash, pumpkin, lettuce, and spinach) and very few ground fruits, such as strawberries. Alexandrians for the most part do not believe in eating anything grown beneath the ground such as roots and tubers. The only meat source they consume is goose and chicken, and eggs are also large part of the diet.


The Royal Household does eat differently in that they do maintain large orchards in the castle garden and therefore have fruit in their diet. They also import breads from Wreath as a delicacy, though meat and dairy has never caught on.



Wreath:
The many nations that comprise the Wreath Confederacy are characterized by two kinds of lifestyle, city and country. The country lifestyle is characterized by a diet of fresh breads; goat's milk, butter, and cheese; fresh vegetables such as cucumber, olives, tomatoes, onions, and garlic; and lots of fruit such as grapes, pomegranates, apples, and melons. Meats such as beef, poultry, and fish are eaten in small quantities. Wine is a staple as is milk and fruit juice.


The sedentary city lifestyle imports many of the grains from the country for bread and pastry baking. A high proportion of the meat eaten in Wreath is consumed by the city folk, while few vegetables or fruit are eaten at all, mostly in preserved states such as pickles or jams. Butter and cheese are consumed in abundance but milk is not widely used. Alcohol is drunk, along with teas and coffees in the city, and fresh water is seldom found.


Insular:
The diets of Insular are primarily distinguished by people group. The Dray, the Wren, and the Three Kingdoms all have very different dietary preferences. However, even then there are certain foods that all of Insular shares, and that is common fare provided where ever one goes. These general fare foods are called, Illfar, and consists primarily of corned beef, baked porridge, and a wedge of yellow nut cheese. Illfar is eaten by all of Insular during the month of Ælax, and also on holy days and feast days, and at important gatherings and meetings.


The Dray do not eat, except when partaking of Illfar for the sake of their host/guests or meetings. Illfar contains no vegetables because of this courtesy. The Dray are very strongly against what they call "brethren-eating", and many former-Dray Queens still retain a highly anti-vegan diet.


The Wren peoples are very religious and rely on auguries and bird calls for daily life to function. They have a special connection with birds, and those of their land are very intelligent and have personal awareness and cognitive function. Therefore, the Wren have always had a strict code against the slaying of or eating of birds, or eggs for that matter. While they know that birds outside of Insular are dumb animals, they still look down on all who eat poultry or eggs.


The people of the Three Kingdoms (Albia, Merca, and Gwayllen) all consume large amounts of beef and lamb, as well as corn porridge and steamed vegetables such as broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, kale, collard greens, and brussels sprouts. The various kingdoms have individual dishes as well that set them apart. Albia has a long tradition of making stews and sauces from the innards of cows, sheep, and chicken. Gwayllen is known for its wild bird game that is a staple, such as pheasant. Merca is known for the diet consisting of beaver, porcupine, and hedgehog.


Sylvania:
The Sylvanian diet was mostly constant, though there were some variation between what was eaten when home vs. when on a voyage. The Sylvanian home dishes were buttery breads, sausages, root vegetables such as beet, turnip, and parsnip. Almost all flour is potato flour and most of dishes include it. The Sylvanian home dishes are also accented by lots of fatty and buttery foods, as most of the home food is eaten during the winter months when none sail. Stews and soups are also made, though less common. Dried and jammed fruit is also common.


Travel fare usually consists of hard buttery biscuits, cured meats, sausages, and pickled vegetables for the first few months. After that, the diet switches to a largely seafood diet consisting of fish, squid, and seabirds. There are also many kinds of seaweed that are made into stews and porridges. The one common drink whether on land or sea, is lemon mead, a drink laced with lots of lemon to prevent scurvy.


Teaul:
The diet of Teaul is much less civilized than the rest of the lands, but that is because Teaul is still very much a wild land. The majority of the people eat what they can get, most crops cannot survive and most animals escape or fall prey to wolves. The settlements on Teaul, located near the coasts eat a variety of shellfish, fish, wild berries and nuts, as well as imported flour and pickled fruit, vegetables, and meats. The settlements also eat a large amount of veal and wild game and birds.


The Sedna settled on the cliffs eat fish, shellfish, and eel. They also eat a wide variety or mushrooms, berries, nuts, and acorns. They regularly hunt turkey and other wild fowl, though they do not eat any other animal other than wolves, which they eat for ceremonial purposes and not actual as a staple of their diets.


The wandering Sedna do not adhere to the rules listed above and will eat anything they can find, often robbing supplies from the settlements. They do this out of desperation, being ostracized from the settlements they become desperate and will eat what ever they can before they are also eaten. Some have even been desperate enough to eat the meat of the sacred caribou.


Rho Ghul:
The Rho Ghul eat according to their various cult belief. The worshipers of Athium believe in a strict seafood based diet and will not "taint their pallets" by eating of animals not created by Athium's music. Part of their cuisine includes exotics such as shark, ray, turtle, and jellyfish. The followers of Enca eat a vegetarian diet with lost of grains. The followers of Humh are pastoralist that have large flocks of sheep and goats that they herd across the valley. They eat what ever comes from their herds and from their serroundings, shunning foreign food. The followers of Miphilphime are known to be excentric and often will fast for long days on end, drinking only treesap. When they eat they only consume nuts and berries and often look pale and unhealthy.


The rest of Rho Ghul are followers of Borgia the goddess of plently and believe in eating as much as possible, importing foreign food which is seen as food that has made a pilgrimage to reach them. They especially eat foods that are covered in sweet, tangy, or spicy sauces. This is not true of the Queen and concubines of the emperor, who are expected to maintain beautiful bodies. They eat mostly fruit and vegetables and some would say they are followers of Orithea.


Wyht Ghul:



The Wyht Ghul are different in that they are a single people group that migrated into Rho Ghul. After ruling over them for years, the Wyht Ghul separated and were corupted by the Silver Tower. As with all subjects of the tower, they began to thirst for meat and blood. The Wyht Ghul are strong carnivores, raising all kinds of meat but especially pork, which they prize as the sweetest meat. Their diet is completely meat centered and most of their nurtition comes from the entrails they eat, or the animal blood they boil their food in, when they cook it.



A side branch of Rho and Wyht Ghul are the canyon dwellers, also known as the followers of Yvel. The mistress of the canyon is said to have come teaching that all foods are now acceptable for Ghuls to eat, but only in moderation and each in its season, so as not to harm the earth. Their diet is generally frowned upon more than that of the Wyht Ghul.


Woodlings:
Woodling diet and that of their guardian Elfs is primarily various kinds of mushrooms. Sometimes they also incorporate berries and nuts, but in general their mushrooms are enough, having all the nutrients they need in the many many different kinds. Some are long, thin, and sweet like cakes. Others are wide and red and taste savory to the mouth. The mushrooms of the forest are one of the best kept secrets of the Woodlings and they do not often share their fare with strangers.

The Tragedy of Brandur and Perlise

In honor of valentines day I finished my epic poem about the tragic love of Brandur and Perlise. Side note: Brandur is pronounced BRAN-dir, and Perlise is pronounced Per-LEES. Also, yes this happens about 7 or 8 generations before my main story.

The Tragedy of
Brandur and Perlise


Canto I: The Beginning

When earth was young and heavens bright
Great light and dark strove in fierce might
Men and elves and sorcerers too
Rallied with purpose: darkness to undo
The world divided waged war on itself
And slowly corrupted earth’s glorious wealth
Till finally, with blood, the gateway was sealed
And the land once more began to heal
But darkness and light took different forms
The light as men and the night, wyrms
Fell beast that lurked in places dark
Leaving evil and destruction as their mark
But Carolman, the sorcerer’s home
Rose to fight the wyrms, alone
And soon was thought, with great fame,
They had vanquished all in light’s name
And so they grew and prospered well
And the world loved their tales to tell
But in this time of bliss and art
Arose a tale made by the heart
A tale of tears and greatest grief
When things forgotten came as a thief
A tale of desire and great passion
Love given freely without ration
A tale of evil and dark deeds
Men driven by great evil’s needs
A tale of many adventures grand
Rough sailors sailing to distant lands
A tale of love so true yet sublime
It all began “Once upon a time…


Canto II: Perlise the Perilous

In Carolman lived a sorcerer old
Who had a daughter fierce and bold
She spoke with authority and great power
And even the strong before her did cower
In tower high wrought of white ivory
Surrounded by silks and golden finery
She sat on her couch of vixen firs
Watching the stars whose keep were hers
Her eyes were violet like breaking dawn
Her hair was white, from moonlight drawn
Her teeth were straight, her fingers long
In her shape was found nothing wrong
With beauty she tempered wisdom deep
Reading tomes whilst others did sleep
Her mind was quick, her wit was sharp
Her words as thunder or soft as a harp
And from her forefathers she did receive
A gift that one could scarce believe
Foresight of a peculiar kind
The future wound its way in her mind
And so looking forth she did behold
That from her womb might greatness unfold
But mark she well whom she chose as mate
For they would steer her perilous fate
So men and sorcerers like the rest
All came unto her and were put to the test
But none found favor, heartbroken were all
And still she waited for love to answer her call
Perlise the Fair, whose beautiful eyes
Shamed the bright stars in the skies


Canto III: The Beast in the Shadow

Far across the deep blue sea
Beneath the shade of the evergreen trees
In a forest ancient, evil and dark
Something had left its shadow mark
A wyrm of old, from the wicked days
Who had even turned men unto it ways
They worshiped the beast in its cave
Sacrificing children, the life it craved
And so it grew stronger each dark night
Crafting stranger darkness with its might
It twisted the mind of one man to its will
Its high priest and herald, the victims to kill
And began to form in the wicked man’s mind
A plan and desire to journey and find
A maiden strong that it could transform
A suitable mate so more wyrms could be born
The wicked man left and crossed the sea
A cloud of darkness in the lands of the free
He sought for days and nights and hours
Till came he to Perlise’s tower
And ascending the mighty ivory keep
He found her on her bed asleep
And beholding her knew at once it was she
The one to share his master’s destiny
But she awoke from troubled dreams
And seeing the man gave yells and screams
Her father’s guards were awoken from slumber
And saw the tower alit with thunder
But once, to her chamber they did come
They found Perlise the Perilous was gone


Canto IV: The King’s Commission

Wilts a great feast was held in his halls,
The sorcerer, Perlise’s father, heard her calls
And ere the guards entered the great hall
He fell to the ground, weeping before all
“What ails you so, O son of the light?
What makes your face turn pale with fright?”
But the words had not yet flown from their tongues
Then the guards entered the chamber of great ones
The tale was told, the darkness inferred
All was silent, but the Great King was heard,
“Now from among us, swiftly go, one must
To save the maiden, and bring the beast to dust.”
And many brave men and sorcerers great
Were ready to arms, casting all unto fate
In silence the assembly stood at the table
Till came forth a young man with hair as sable
“This task is small for such great a host
And much power here, rightly we boast.
And verily so the beast shall also know
And so catching her up, away he shall go.”
Then all were amazed at the young duke’s perception
For he had seen through a part of the beast’s deception
And seeing the youth’s mind as sharp as his sword
Stepped forward the King, his ruler and lord,
“Now, young duke, wise words you have spoken,
And truly the beasts’ plan you have broken.
For he does not expect a single man
Would dare to come into his land
Therefore you go forth now and save her,
Your quest before you, young duke Brandur.”


Canto V: The Ballad of Brandur

Brandur followed the trail to the dark cave
And before it he saw the altar to the knave
But no moment for reflection on the ghastly rites
There stirred in the cavern a roar and strange lights
A long serpentine head extended outside
Its eyes were black like some thing long died
He stepped forth, with his brave sword ready
But then spoke the beast in voice low and steady
“Be gone, thou man, thy kind shall fail,
Think not thyself safe, boy, with thy sword and thy mail.”
But Brandur charged with his sword strong and gleaming
The vile fiend’s mouth opened with smoking and steaming
From its jaws came forth a column of fire
But Brandur merely raised his shield up higher.
But before the duke could move to strike true
A clawed hand descended and clove his shield in two
And then the creature with its talons of steel
Grabbed the duke and would have made of him a meal
But as the large toothy mouth stood ready, agape
The duke pulled forth his dagger from beneath his torn cape
And struck true and hard at the mighty beast’s face
And as the blade entered its eye, so died its race
For with the one blow, the villain was undone
And changed into nothing but smoke in the sun
The brave duke staggered forth, his wounds grave
But he had to endure for he had her still to save
He found Perlise bound and set her free
Then she tended his wounds, as slept did he
Then by sea they returned with greatest speed
While born in their hearts was true love’s seed


Canto VI: In the Glade of Selene

When returned Brandur and Perlise
There were many a celebration and feast
And all would hear the daring tale
Of how the light once more prevailed
But in the morning’s early hour
The two met in a secret bower
For in the woods of sweet dreams
They found the hidden Glade of Selene
And there in dawn’s violet light
The world was soft, not dark or bright
As moon, sun, and stars mixed above
The two whispered softly to each other of love
Their eyes met and their hearts beat as one
In time with the sky, and the earth and the sun
And they pledged their love for eternity
Bound their fates with all certainty
Perlise had found the one she had sought
Brandur, a treasure for whom he had fought
He was the night and she was the moon
And daybreak came always too soon
And so they met on in the secret glade
Where laughter and love would never fade
The mornings were short they had together
Yet their memories were locked in their hearts forever
Wed in secret in the mixing of the light
Their love and future then seemed so bright
But this time of bliss was not to last
For one day her servant followed them in the grass
There saw them in the Glade of Selene
And reported to her father what he had seen.


Canto VII: When The Walls Were Raised

The aged father of Perlise the Fair,
An olden sorcerer with greying hair
He called a council of the many wise
To hear what ways they would advise
But ere they spoke of the two lovers
They first brought curses upon others.
They called for their mantles and staves
And spoke their words like roaring waves.
“Men of Tara who hid in the shade
Be thee and thine children now remade
For hiding the wyrm in the green trees
Be forever more bound unto these.
But only to honor the great King
Who sent Brandur to make right everything
In marriage to his sons alone
May thine daughters leave their arboreal home!
But thou, O man who took Perlise
Thou shall find no sweet release
Be thou bound unto they corpse-lord
Till madness take thee forever more.”
Then called they to the ever blue deep
“Rise now a wall, our lands to keep.
Let no more man or beast enter here,
Let all be shut out, never again draw near!”
Then rose up the glorious white wall
Fierce and magical but worst of all
Perlise and Brandur were now separated
For the elders saw together they were ill fated
She was locked in her white tower
While he was cast out in that same hour.


Canto VIII : The Shard of the Shadow

Brandur the Heartbroken dwelt by the wall
And would no more answer the Great King’s call
But Perlise appeared in his troubled sleep
And told him a secret power kept deep
And with this power in his hands
He could gain access to the locked lands.
Brandur sent word to his faithful friend
Einri the Navigator who sailed to worlds end
And soon to the land of Teaul they came
Brandur alone set out with one aim
And in the forest he found the Sedna way
In days when a friendlier people were they
They welcomed him in, and showed him their home
The secret glades where they dwelt alone
For the caribou people were once Elvenkind
Charged and bound to make sure no man would find
The ancient crystal wrought by the old elves
When deep into darkness they had delved
And Brandur knew this was what he did seek
For in the dark crystal remained power weak
But even at the crystal’s faint glow
The mighty walls of Carolman would be brought low
So in night’s shade he broke of a piece
And fled that place as shadow was released
The vines of darkness burned his hands
But he did not stop running till he left the shore’s sands
And as he sailed away on the ship so bright
He felt his mind slip further into the night
For the crystal began burning away at his soul
Only recalling Perlise’s light keeping him whole


Canto IX: The Breaking of the Walls

Then came Brandur wreathed in shade
And the seas before him were even unmade
And he reached out and touched the white wall
And it cracked and then began to fall
The void swallowed all that towards him fell
And soon there rung the warning bell
And all the sorcerers gathered in all their might
To stand against him with all their light
But Brandur covered in the darkened smoke
Tears flowed as in hoarse voice he spoke,
“Where is Perlise? Where is she kept?
For long have I longed for her face as I slept”
And thinking to deter him they all lied
“As soon as you left in great sorrow she died.”
But overcome with grief to the crystal he gave in
His body turned black and took the form of a raven
Then flew he over the gathered mighty host
Who did in their scheming and lying boast
His tears fell like a foul rain of oil
And burned man and beast and plant and soil
His anguish scream of loss on the air
Echoed around, traveled everywhere
Perlise heard it, and thought him in pain
And found a great light did in her remain
She flew from her tower and came to the wall
And there she cried when beheld she all
For Brandur lay there broken on the rubble
She came to him and removed the source of the trouble
And with the crystal pried from his fingers
His soul returned for a few moments to linger


Canto X: The Fall of Brandur

Perlise wept as she cradled his head
For she knew in her heart that soon he’d be dead
The darkness had taken a part of his heart
And torn his soul completely apart
But still she held on with all her might
And shone brighter still with a pure light
The breath remained still in his chest
And he still remained, did not go to rest
For he saw the shard and knew its mind
So when he saw it quiver he pushed her aside
The dark shard found him its target instead
He had saved her once more and he then said,
“Good bye, my love, my light, my wife.
I gladly give, for you, my life.”
Then a roar fell from the skies above
And a creature grabbed Perlise’s love
The corps of the wyrm bound to the madman.
Was drawn by the shard from across the land
But even as he grabbed Brandur’s still form
Perlise’s light burned him and so fell the wyrm
The beast-man perished within the great waves
They beat him against the rocks for days
Brandur and the shard came into the hall,
Of the Seakings so mighty and tall
The shard was thrown back onto the shore
For they knew its evil would make the depths war
But Brandur’s body was kept in the deep
And there for three years he did sleep
While sweet ocean waters washed away the shade
Until he was once again, a man made.


Canto XI: The Fall of Perlise

Perlise the Widow lived for three years
And saw the wall rebuilt amidst more fears
Her twins were born that same fall
And sent to live in their father’s great hall
They had the dark hair of Brandur their father
But white skin and violet eyes of their mother
They grew up there away from her sorrow
For she knew not if she would arise in the morrow
When three years had passed to the very day
She found herself atop the walls some way
And sang her lament for all to hear
Of love, and light, and shadow and fear,
“My water is parched, my food is dust
The sun grows cold, the flowers to rust
Since the day my love was taken from me
By cruel fate and its uncertainty.
In our arrogant pride we had thought
That love could be steered, bribed, or bought
But, lo, the price that foresight does bring
For I have lost him, and so lost everything!
My children shall carry the weight all their lives
And their children too shall have sorrowful eyes
Yes, I have foreseen that this cruel fate
Shall be a shadow of sorrow and hate
Until my Brandur comes back once more
And turns back even fates strong door.”
Then finished was she, she stood on the wall
At the high tower where it was so tall.
And threw herself from the ivory seat
Taken by the sea, her Brandur to meet.


Canto XII: The Reunion

Many years later, the sorcerers wise
Hearing the full tale only then realized
And repented when heard the part they had played
Wishing deeply they had but let Brandur stay
Still knowing the past was gone and done
Instead they gathered everyone
And called unto the Seakings of the deep
In whose halls the two lovers did sleep
The Seakings rose with a great host
For in their lands they loved the two the most
And would not let the Sorcerer’s come
And take the two, or even just one
For the tale of the two was well known
And the seas were called their final home
So then the sorcerers, to honor their love
Wished to do something worthy enough
And so they met with the High Seaking
Who hearing their plan, approved of everything
The sorcerers with their staves shining bright
Began weaving magic with all their might
The light wrapped round the sleeping forms
Scales upon their bodies, heads crowned with horns
Mighty wings which with the rainbow did shine
Bodies stretched far, into straight lines
Arms now long, with golden webbed claws
Silver sharp teeth lining their jaws
They were remade into the dragons of the sea
Who would live now together for all eternity
Guarding the seas by the great white wall
And so their love continued forever more.


Canto XIII: An Ending

This tale of love, truest and strong
Tells of many rights and wrongs
But more so still it tells the tale
Of two lovers whose love would never fail
Perlise the Moon and Brandur the Night
Who loved each other with all their might

NEW Chapter 5

The peace of the rolling green hills and wide meandering paths of Alexandria was disturbed by a long, loud wail. It increased in volume and pitch, echoing through the wide fields and across the flowery farms scaring chickens and geese. Around a turn in the hilly road, a band of soldiers on chestnut horses came trotting wearily. Some were holding their hands over their helmeted ears, others stuffing grass and cloth in their helmets, all trying desperately to stop the noise.

The source of the wailing and crying was a small girl, sitting in the seat of the soldier directly behind the Captain. Her curly blonde hair was missing a bow, and her eyes and nose were red and swollen from all the crying as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Whaaaaaaaa! You killed Silver! You killed my puppy!” the little girl cried as more and more tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Vhill you be quiet!!!” yelled the Captain, turning his horse around.

The large, barrel chested man, with the same tan skin and deep brown hair as the rest of his soldiers was probably twice their size, muscles and veins bulging from beneath his silver armor. At his side he carried a large, ornate sword, with vines and flowers in the silver handle.

The soldier who was carrying the girl on his horse, a dull and unintelligent fellow named Burt, began speaking to the small girl, whose lips were quivering, readying another explosion of sorrow. “Now dere, vhat the Captain meant is, see dere, your doggy’s tail is tvitching. Ve didn’t go and hurt her. She is only sleeping.”

This seemed to appease the little girl, who wiped a sleeve across her face and gave a loud sniff before smiling and reaching over to pet the dog. When she was sure her dog was alright she seemed to recover remarkably fast from her lamentful state. But just as the Captain turned and began riding away, the peace was broken again.

“Captain, why did you take me? Where are we? Why are there so many flowers? Do you like flowers? I love flowers! My granny showed me how to make flower crowns. She always called me her little daisy. She tried calling me other flower names but I didn’t like them. Oh! We should stop and then I can make flower crowns for everyone! Oh please! Please! Please! Pleeeeeeaaaaaassssse!!!!”

The Captain gave a low growl as he tried to take a calming breath. It was going to be a very long ride back to the castle.

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Nicholas stood on the top of the last small hillock before the castle. The faded red cart was stopped at its base while Aconite was gathering flowers. Ivan had curled up on the seat of the cart, sleep taking him even before his eyes were closed all the way. That meant Nicholas was left to make the plan.

He knew what Ivan wanted to do. Use Aconite to get into the castle. They would sneak in, pretending to be her helpers. But whenever Nicholas thought about doing it, he got a sick feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t fear. It was more like his conscience was telling him no, that he would have to lie to get inside, and that it was a very bad idea.

Nicholas stood on the hill looking towards the castle as he continued wrestling with the sickening feeling of dread that was engulfing his mind. He didn’t notice the old woman walking up behind him. She placed a bony hand on Nicholas’ shoulder, and he felt a cold chill go down his spine.

“Now then lad. No need to fret so much ‘bout what’s ta come. All things will work them selves out in the end, mark me words.”

“I don’t think I will be able to go with you two. Something feels… wrong. It’s hard to explain. Why don’t we just go up to the castle guard and explain the situation?”

“Well, I already explained that. The wicked Queen would have yer head on a platter afore ye had even said anything. She’s gone wild in the mind. Some things are better not to leave up to fate, lad.”

“I think I’ll take my chances with fate. Who knows, maybe the Queen’s madness can play in my favor. It’s a risky chance, but I’m gonna take it.”

“Foolish boy. You would cripple your own friends so? They need your help, not the extra sorrow of your death or more work in saving you! Don’t be so selfish!” the old woman said severely.

“I’m sorry, but I have to do what I think is right. Sahrina and Ivan will just have to understand.” Nicholas said, before turning and walking down towards the cart.

Aconite stood listening as Nicholas awoke Ivan and told the other boy his plan. There was arguing, with Ivan continually raising his voice. The words ‘illogical’ and ‘stupid’ echoed back up towards the hill. Eventually, Nicholas simply gave up trying to explain himself, wished Ivan luck, and walked towards the castle. Aconite followed him with her milky gaze. She was blind, but she was not. She knew what he has sensed. What she could not understand was how he had sensed it. Strange powers were at work in the land of Alexandria.

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Sahrina walked though the darkness, feeling the hair-like roots matting against her face. The passage had not been used in many years. After walking for several hours she had come to a solid wooden door. The door led up more stairs and then into a small chamber. As she stepped from the tunnel’s darkness into another cold, dark room she tripped over something. A rusty pair of manacles. She was in a dungeon.

Sahrina walked slowly, softly, as she made her way across the straw strewn chamber. A foul, musky odor hung in the air, the smell of a room that hadn’t been used in centuries. She pushed the creaking rusted doors open and walked into the main guard room. It was large, with torches all around, but what made it stand out was a large pit in the center, covered in a grate, with the hiss of serpents coming from within.

“Hmmm. Dark secrets lurk in the locked places of Alexandria. Is this their kinds’ greatest gift?” she hissed under her breath.

From ahead of her, a shuffling gate could be heard as a guard was walking towards the main door to inspect the cells of the dungeon. She crept along the side of the wall and flattened herself against the rough stone, timing her breathing perfectly, to match the shadows of the flickering torch light. Then the door opened and a soldier walked in.

In the few seconds he had time to register what was going on, he saw a strange shadow on the wall flicker and then seem to leap forward. The shadow hit the ground before him with its hands, and brought its legs over in a flip, driving both booted feet hard into his head.

“Don’t over do it Sahrina!” she scolded herself, recalling her old master’s words, “Too much force will have consequences not only on your opponent but on yourself!”

As she began walking towards the guard she felt the throbbing pain begin to increase again with every footfall, proving she had overdone it. She quickly pulled the guard’s armor off and strapped it on herself. Then she tied him up and limped out of the chamber and up the stairs beyond the door.

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The faded red cart pulled by the invisible nothing rolled to a stop before the large, red gates. Aconite sat alone on the cart surrounded by her many pigeons and doves. Her faded red shawl was wrapped around her bony figure, her white burlap robe fluttering its frayed edges in the wind that also caught her long wiry white hair. Two white, sightless eyes looked up towards the gate.

“Well now, were ye reckonin’ on openin’ the gate for me, me sonny?” she called up in her grandmotherly voice.

“Goodvhife Aconite, at lahst you haf returned. The kastle trees haf a strange sort of mold on de leafs and Brovoch de Fencing Master has broken his collar bone. It hahs been set but it vhil be much better vhen you tek a look at it.”

“Well then, ye’d better let me be getting’ in there. Just a wee moment. I well be needin’ one o’ my helpers. Now, let’s see. Ivan, come here.” she spoke to the doves as one fluttered over next to her in the seat.

The next moment there was a large puff of white smoke and when it cleared there was a small man next to her. He was dressed in bright red boots, puffy white pants, with a large white parka falling from around his neck all the way to his waist. On his head was a conical red hat with a wide brim that reached a hand’s length out from his head. And on his face was a white chalky bird mask with a long white beak.

The gates opened and the two rode in. The castle walls were so thick that the gateway was actually a tunnel leading in towards the castle grounds. The inside of the castle was completely unlike the rest of the land. It was a large central keep, surrounded by many fruit trees planted close together, an orchard literally fit for a king. No where else has Ivan seen trees in Alexandria, not since the Forest they had come out of.

Aconite directed the cart through towering trees on a path running through the small forest. They arrived at a large ornate door, carved with many stern looking women’s faces. The door opened and several people came out, all bustling and laughing as they talked excitedly with Aconite. She made a motion as she stepped towards them and Ivan nodded and took the reigns, steering the nothing pulling the cart towards the stables. That was, if he could find the stables.

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The western swamps of Alexandria bubbled and hissed as fumes and vapors struggled to escape from the sucking mud. A small wooden boat, black and gleaming like moonlight slid slowly over the misty top of the swamp, not touching the mud or sucking quicksand. On the boat were two figures, one dressed in a stained, filthy brown suit with a deck of black cards in his hands. The other was a young girl of fourteen with hair like fire and eyes that were a deep green. She wore a simple burlap sack, tied around her waist with a rope.

“So, I think we’re almost at the end of the fog bank.” the fat man said, licking his dry lips. “We’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.”

“Fine.” the girl said coolly.

“Listen you! You are my slave until I hand you over to my superior in Alexandria! Until then you’ll respect me! I am your master! I own you! I-eigh! Neigh!” As Stultius had been yelling his ears had slowly been changing into horse ears and his arms and legs began sprouting fir.

In panic, he jumped up, waving both hands over his head, which caused the boat they were in to flicker twice and disappear. They fell into the festering mud with two sickening plops. As man and slave girl wiggled out of the mud onto the patch of dry land, one of the black cards came flying back to the man and buried it somewhere in his deck.

As he coughed and hacked he slowly changed back into a man again, “You! You did this! Cough! Cough! I’ll teach you a thing or two!” He said wiping mud from his greasy face and raising a willow switch he had made earlier, the frightened girl backed against a pile of logs with no escape.

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Ivan walked slowly and deliberately through the sunny hallways and chambers. Most of the castle’s west facing windows were splashing mid afternoon sunshine into the solid stone castle, filling it with light and warmth. Ivan scratched his face beneath the chalky mask as he continued searching, looking for any trace of Bella or the dungeons.

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Sahrina climbed the stairs up from the inner castle keep, where the rooms had no windows and were lit with yellow glowing torches. She moved from chamber to chamber, searching for a sign of Bella, Nicholas, or Ivan. Even though it had only been a few days since they had met, she knew there was something about the two boys that drew her. She couldn’t just leave them here. They would need rescuing as much as Bella did in this strange land.

Her thoughts were interrupted as another soldier passed her, then turned and called, “Hey, you’re going the wrong way! Mess hall is this way!”

She turned slowly, forced a smile and said, “Thanks, I just need to go find my sword. I think I left it on the wall.”

“It can wait. Come on, if you don’t come soon there won’t be any left!” he smiled as he beckoned to her, “By the way. I don’t think we’ve met before. But with so many new recruits it’s been hard keeping track of people.”

Sahrina smiled and said, “My name is Holly. I’m from… north.”

“Hahaha. Well that explains the peculiar name. I’m Grieger from the west marshes.”

Before she could object, Sahrina found herself being dragged along by Grieger to the mess hall. There, in the cloud of smoke and steam from the kitchen, throngs of soldiers were bustling and laughing as they moved about the long rectangular table. Sahrina found herself between Grieger and a large man with no hair and a scar running the length of face. She decided to simply eat and see if she could catch any conversation about the three she was looking for.

The late lunch or early dinner, was a modest affair, with goose and chicken eggs served with both aforementioned birds roasted, along with flower seed porridge and cooked flower stalks. It seemed to Sahrina that a lot of the ales and cordials being passed around also seemed to be based on some flower or another. While pleasant tasting, the food was different and left a perfume like scent on her breath that she did not enjoy at all.

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The sun was setting in the orange and violet sky when the small group of soldiers finally arrived at the castle. Most were decked in various flower crowns, with wreathes of flowers swinging around the horses’ necks and garlands of rose and lilies running between them, giving the appearance for all the world of one large daisy chain trotting towards the castle gates.

The Captain had tried in vain to keep the girl moving but every new field they had come to had excited the small girl even more and every time they had to stop while she gathered flowers. The small pest was now asleep in a sling around his shoulders, surrounded by lilies and daisies and all manners of flower.

Making sure that none of his men saw him, he gently moved the makeshift blanket to cover her shoulder completely. He smiled. She has been a troublesome little thing, but in many ways she reminded him of his own daughter. He hid his smile once more and gave a scowl to his men as motioned for them to discard their floral crowns before they entered the castle.

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As the castle doors swung shut behind the group of soldiers, Nicholas lay down on the hill and pulled his heavy black cloak around him tighter. He knew that it would keep the worst cold out. He had waited all day long, asking soldiers as they were coming in from the fields about Bella.

Most had reported that the Captain had been sent out on a special mission that morning. They had also all confirmed that he would not be back till late afternoon or evening. So Nicholas had waited. He had waited and he has seen the group of flower soldiers arrive. And he had seen the Captain and how he treated Bella.

At least Nicholas now knew she wasn’t in any immediate danger. He would go speak to the Captain tomorrow and hopefully figure something out. Or he would speak to the Queen. At the moment, Nicholas felt that sleep was the best action to take. As a warm peaceful breeze brushed across the perfumed land and caressed his face, his eyes closed.

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The mess hall was so crowded that Sahrina decided to leave as soon as possible, the noise making it impossible to hear anything anyway. She just barely made it out before more soldiers arrived, looking extremely tired. But what made them peculiar was that some were wearing strange flower wreathes on their helmets. Obviously they had too much rose ale, and she preferred not to waist her time. She needed information to find Bella and she wasn’t going to find it there.

Sahrina left the mess hall and found her way to the wall. Climbing the stairway up to the wall, she could see the last rays of the sun gently caressing the sky. A warm breeze was picking up, swirling perfumed air all around her. She had never felt any particular way about flowers, but the constant floral aroma from the fields, the kitchen and now her own breathe was overwhelming.

Walking along the wall she gazed over the land. The castle must have been close to the center because she could see equal distances in all directions. To her north, the lands continued, the small hillocks growing smaller and smaller until they became an open plane, with the singular road that wound to the glittering sea.

On her left, where the western sun was sinking, she saw the fields give way to hillocks, and hillocks give way to a strange milky white mist. It almost seemed that just by looking at it she could smell the fetid aroma of the swamps and marshes that must lay there. That’s where Grieger had said he was from.

On her right, she could see the fields again give way to hillocks and then to large hills and far behind them the eastern mountains stood large and tall. It occurred to her that she had never seen mountains that tall. They rose so steeply that they almost looked like pillars holding the sky up.

And then she returned her gaze to the south, where she and her friends had come from that day. She saw the many fields and farms encircled by the red road, and beyond it… beyond it she saw the forest. Like a living wall of green, so thick, so immense and impenetrable that whatever lay beyond it now seemed only a dream, far away.

A movement on a nearby hillock caught her attention. A black shape, like a curled up animal of some sort had stirred. She gave it no second thought and continued scanning the land before returning to the soldiers’ quarters. Since she was using the disguise of a soldier she might as well take the full benefits, such as a warm bed. Sahrina fell quickly asleep to the sound of many snoring soldiers and the scent of flowers still filling her mind.

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The Captain has laid the sleeping bundle in the small satin bed, located in the royal cell. The solid gold and ivory walls were interspaced with precious gems and pearls that glimmered in the candle light. Then, when he had securely tucked her in, he slid out of the room and locked the door. His grimace returned as he faced the two guards before the door.

“Make sure that she stays in there and no one else goes in!” then as he turned to go he added, “Oh, and also, she may need a glass of vater, or a fresh candle in the middle of the night. Make sure to get it for her or I vhill hav your heads!”

Then he strutted away, making sure to pull his stomach in and his chest out. He marched up the stairs and further up towards the main castle keep. He crossed the castle courtyard lined with all its trees and entered the large, central keep.

Here there was no rough stone, only cool marble and soft velvet rugs lined with gold. No more harsh torches, only golden candelabras and lamps that illuminated rich paintings, soft silks, and marble statues of whitest hue. He walked past the main throne room, with its raised dais and single gold throne and proceeded up the wide stairway. There he walked along the polish ebony floor to the royal apartments.

He knocked once and stepped into the antechamber. The Queen’s nurse, dressed in rich brown robes studded with small pearls and with a dark brown, almost black, shawl around her shoulders was seated in the receiving chair. Standing next to her was another older woman, this one dressed in long white burlap robes, wearing a red shawl and with long white hair that seemed to blow in the breeze, even though there was no wind.

“Excuse me. I am here to see de Queen.”

“Kaptain. You hav missed her highness. As I vhas just explaining to my other guest, da Qveen is already asleep. Vhat do you hav to report?”

“Vhe apprehended de girl. She is in the royal cell right now.”

The nurse pursed her lips and nodded before turning to her guest, “Vhell, Goodvife Aconite, it seems you vere right. I shall speak to de Queen. Maybe she can be convinced to release de child.”

“I tink dat vould be a good idea.” the Captain said, but was cut off before he could continue.

“Very gud, Kaptain. You may return to your post. Tomorrow de Qveen vould like you and your men to check on de svamps. You vhill need plenty of rest.”

The Captain bowed stiffly and walked out, followed by the lady in white. The two walked silently down the hallway and back towards the main throne room. As they passed a painting of the royal family, the Captain turned to the old woman.

“So you are seeking Bella. Vhy?” asked the Captain.

“She is my granddaughter. She’s been missing and I have been looking for her for so long.” Aconite said smiling hopefully. “Could I possibly see her, just to make sure she’s safe?”

“You can trust me. She is safe.” The Captain spoke abruptly, “But if I can speak freely, de Qveen’s orders today seem very strange. Never before hav ve been sent to capture a little girl. I hav alvays followed de Queen’s orders vithout question… but this… if de Qveen will not release her… I shall help her get to you…”

“Many thanks Captain.” Aconite said bowing, “I couldn’t thank ye enough.”

“It vould be my pleasure.” The Captain smiled. “Oh, and is der any message you vould vant me to give to her?”

“Oh, aye, many thanks. Just tell my wee Buttercup that I’m coming for her and we’ll be home soon.” Aconite said appreciativly.

“I vhill do that.” The Captain said smiling as he stepped out the door. “A Gud Evening tvo you.”

“An’ te ye.” Aconite bowed as the Captain stepped out and closed the door.

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Ivan was completely lost, cold, tired, and hungry. He had walked through the old castle and could not find a single trace of the girls. It didn’t help that somewhere early along his journey he had entered a room with a strange wardrobe in it. The door of the room had locked from the outside and he was stuck. Then he had sat down and thought about where he was in the castle. His calculations meant that there was another room behind the wall with the wardrobe.

Pulling the ancient looking wardrobe down he had broken the back paneling and used it to wedge several stones loose and make a tunnel into the next room. As he was about to squees through the tunnel he stepped on a switch and the entire wall he had been working on for almost an hour swung open. From there it had been a series of secret chambers and passages and even with his north finding ability he had gotten completely lost.

So he found himself before the large mahogany doors. They were carved with a many figures and symbols and signs that he couldn’t unravel. When he looked at the center panels he thought he saw the owl and the raven depicted on each actually moving from the corner of his eye. Ivan’s candle he had found hours earlier was almost gone, so he pushed the door open, hoping there would be some form of light inside.

The room that greeted him was completely dark. He stumbled around until he found a fire place. There were ancient logs covered in cobwebs and dust sitting in the fireplace waiting to be used. He lowered his candle and even before the flame touched the wood, the large oak logs burst into flame, causing Ivan to fall backward in shock.

The light from the large stone fireplace lit the entire room. Ivan gasped as he saw rows and rows of books reaching so high into the darkness above that they appeared to go on forever. He found another candle and lit it from the fire, and began searching through the library, all thoughts of hunger and weariness forgotten.

As Ivan browsed through the world of books, tomes, and atlases, he began reassuring himself that he was helping Sahrina and Nicholas. He was looking for a map of the castle so he could find them. And while he was doing that, why shouldn’t he do some research on this strange place they were in? After all, in the end, that might prove the most help of all. Besides, he said to himself, the two of them had probably already found Bella.

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Many eyes slept that night, some in peace, some in worry, and some in weariness. In the swamps of Alexandria, one pair slept in pain, another in fear. Fear of what the night sleep might bring. But in the night there were two eyes which did not sleep.

“The moon is black. The time has come. Come my daughters. Come to me.” the whisper crept over the world.

Several dreams were interrupted as the whisper fell in their ears. But they did not wake up. Instead, in their dreams, they all saw the world change before them and fall away. All that remained was a single floating slab of dead rock, surrounded by torrents of smoky haze. To this meeting place they all were called and came.

First there arrived an oily smoke smudge that moved across the air and then took the shape of the mistress of nightmares in her black gossamer gowns. Next, out of the swirling darkness a bright and shining light arrived, a figure faintly within. After her, an armored figure, carrying a large iron mace and with a heavy chainmail cape dragging in the dust arrived. Then came one in a robe, off-black, that hung down in many folds, making her seem like a large walking pile of mud. And finally, the one in the silky red cape arrived. They were all there.

“Oleander.” came the voice that called them.

“Yes…” spoke the heavy voice behind the iron helmet.

“Yes, mother.” the first voice insisted.

“Yes… mother.” Oleander said seething behind her helmeted face.

“What happened little one?” asked the soft voice.

“I… I lost the key.” spoke Oleander hanging her head in shame.

“Ha! Not only lost the key, but drove her back into the forest. We could have picked her up easily if you hadn’t been so clumsy!” hissed the figure in black.

“I had other problems to take care off. At the time I did not know she was in the forest.” Oleander said, fingers clenching around the large mace.

“So your years of swearing off magic has taken its toll on your senses, old one.” purred the one in crimson.

“Shut your mouth! A Vestal dare not speak in high counsel matters! This is between me and the other Matrons!” boomed Oleander’s voice.

“Many apologies, O highly esteemed one.” said the crimson robed Vestal with a mock bow.

“Girls. Enough.” said the soft voice, “What is being done about the key?”

“I am moving my forces to the east.” answered the lady in black, “If the Order or the Volvasa try to interfere they will find themselves grossly outnumbered.”

“Do not worry about the Order of the Apothecary. For many years now I have been slowly wrapping my hands around them, corrupting the pure, breaking the strong. They will soon crumble into nothing but willing servants of out mother.” spoke the bright light with a smile.

“Where is the girl now?”

“She is before me, mother. I need only reach out and grasp her, and the key is mine.” spoke the one in the folded robe. “However, I have sensed guards about her. Not only human but others as well. Even as I speak now, I must guard my lips and my appearance for their presence is about me… and it is no ordinary light I sense but that… that of the old light.”

There was no sharp retort or quick answer from those gathered this time. Instead, there was a single dread that entered all those present. Finally the first voice spoke, softly and soothing as she directed her children.

“It seems our enemy has finally decided to make themselves known. Long has the light shone without revealing its source. But there are other things. Deeper things. Things that once made war with the old light and prevailed against it. Even now, one of these sleeps beneath the waters of the deep. The time is almost come to awaken him from his long slumber.”

The dread from before was replaced with excitement and expectancy as they all felt themselves tremor with anticipation. The day had finally come. Long had they lurked in the shadows but no more. The time had come for then to rise. None would be able to stand before the Circle of Witches.