Ganthe screamed.

He had never been so scared in his life. Not as the goblins hunted for him in Rauhoffen, not even as he hid behind one of Lady Tastow’s gowns, as she desperately searched her wardrobe for something to wear. The goblins were after him, but so were the fae.

At Heric’s cry he scrambled up onto Sunna, By time he was up and ready, Heric had fastened his helmet and drawn his sword.

A light, like a brilliant star, appeared near the forest hanging in the air. It cast a soft luminescence revealing at least ten goblins racing toward them

The Captain charged straight at the leading group, Rianio slamming through them as Heric thrust and cut with his sword. Ganthe heard the twang of Ifonsa’s bow and saw one of goblin’s fall.

Yet, Sunna refused to move. She quivered with fear, only lurching forward a step and then stopping whenever Ganthe dug his heels in.

He leant forward and whispered in her ear, “Come on. We need to help.”

“More!” Lera screamed. She pointed toward the forest. More goblins emerged from beneath the trees. Far more than Ganthe could count on one hand.

Lera battled with her own mount as she prepared to enter the fray, her hand on the hilt of her sword as her horse pawed at the dirt nervously.

Sunna still refused to move toward the goblins. She would wheel, turning either to the left or right, whenever Ganthe tried to urge her.

Then the light suddenly winked out, thrusting them all back into darkness, leaving behind only red and green dazzling after-images.

Ganthe heard Fahesha swearing, a choice selection of invented invective. Then the sound of a horse galloping, towards the battle.

Sunna bucked, almost throwing Ganthe by its suddenness. She wheeled again.

“Ganthe!” Lera cried, “Help.”

Lera struggled with Falduin, who was slumped in his saddle. The two horses were threatening to draw away from one another.

Ganthe guided Sunna towards them. This time she moved without protest. Ganthe sandwiched Falduin’s horse between his own and Lera’s horse, before reaching over and grabbing at Falduin’s robe, sitting him up.

Ifonsa’s bow sang again. “I’m out”, she cried.

As Ganthe fought to keep Falduin upright, he heard Fahesha wails retreating, “No, no, no, no, no, no!” Glancing behind, he saw Tegalie charging her mount towards the goblins, sword in hand. Fahesha desperately clung to on for dear life.

“Ride!” Ifonsa cried. “Fast and hard! Follow me!”

“Heric!” Ganthe shouted, “Teg!”

And then they were off.

They galloped, Sunna more than willing to flee the skirmish. Lera, Falduin and Ganthe raced side by side following behind Ifonsa’s sorrel. Somehow they kept Falduin in the saddle. Somehow they didn’t slam into any of the trees or bushes that brushed past them in the darkness.

Towards the Hill of Undying they rode, towards the lamps of many hues. The lights seemed to have sensed their approach. They cascaded towards them like water flowing down a hill.

Ifonsa screamed at them but Ganthe couldn’t hear her over the sound of the goblins’ screeching and whooping from behind. Had Heric fallen? Had Tegalie been taken?

Ganthe couldn’t afford to look back. All his effort spent keeping Falduin seated as they galloped.

Then Lera hollered and shied away, as her mount avoided the low-hanging branches of an oak tree.

“I’m fine,” Falduin groaned, as he sat up and took control of his own horse. Ganthe stayed close ready to catch Falduin in case he fell.

“Hurry!” Lera cried.

Glancing behind, Ganthe saw Heric and Tegalie galloping to catch up. Three goblins were at their heels, racing after them on foot. Farther behind , dark shadows swarmed out of the forest, the glow from the faerie lamps revealing the horde in pursuit.

“Now!” Tegalie cried.

Almost as one, both she and Heric drew rein, swinging their mounts around to confront the three goblins pursuing them. The goblin closest to Tegalie reacted too slowly. As it passed The Princess, she slashed with her sword, catching the goblin between the shoulder and the neck. There was a spray of blood, the goblin took one step, and fell face-first into the dirt.

Meanwhile, Heric had almost cleaved one of the goblins in two with his sword. The goblin bent backwards at a grotesque angle, then fell into the brush.

Then arrows began to fall amongst them.

“Run!” Lera shouted.

Ganthe turned back, only just in time. He swerved Sunna around an elder bush that appeared in the path, falling in behind Falduin.

Ganthe turned to see that Heric and Tegalie following, with Lera falling back to join them. The remaining goblin had either fallen back or had been killed. The patter of arrows plummeting from the night sky to strike the ground pursued them.

The land rose up so sharply that Sunna almost stumbled. Ganthe steadied himself in the saddle, as Sunna regained her footing. He noted that her breathing was laboured. He wasn’t certain how long she could keep up this pace.

“Dont-“ Ifonsa cried, but the rest of her warning was lost in the wind.

The first group of lights converged upon them. A pair of yellow and green lamps that floated across the ground like butterflies, or more like dragonflies. They were making a beeline straight for them.

Ganthe made mistake of peering intensely at the yellow light as it drew near. Inside was a tiny creature, malformed and delightful at the same time. It bared its pointy teeth at him.

Then he plummeted into the faerie realm.

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A spider’s web in the moonlight with struggling shapes within....Phosphorescent vines dangling from twisted oak trees....The smell of the Milardus River, mired with filth and dirt.... the sounds of moths dancing..... the taste of charred flesh....the touch of Sunna’s embrace. The girl or the horse?

Ganthe screams. He’s no longer sure.

Ahead, a man rides a dragon, its long body coiling and slithering past Sunna. The man turns to look at him. He looks exactly like Ganthe, except with short hair and no beard. The man glares at him

Ganthe grins. The man grins back, mirroring his action. Ganthe waves. The man waves back at the same time.

The cry of an eagle. It flies above him, then wheels to fly back in the direction they have just come. It swoops over a king and queen, riding in procession. Ganthe can see their entourage stretches back into forever. Each new follower garbed in more ornate and luxurious clothing and jewels than those before them. The king and queen wave to the crowd, gathered on either side.

The rich aroma of roasted lamb coated with rosemary, lemon and garlic catches Ganthe’s attention. Off to the side there are some folk in greens and browns sitting on sawn rings in a great circle around a fire. They eat, drink and laugh merrily.

Ganthe starts to join them, then his mother’s sister whispers in his ear. “All faerie food is an illusion. A trick to ensnare mortals.” He turns to look, but there is nobody there.

Ganthe takes Sunna’s reins and begins to tie them in a knot around his wrist. He hopes this will prevent him from being drawn to the food.

A face, staring at him with emerald eyes. A girl. Her hair, brown with teal roots. The bridge of her nose growing a bronze broach. Yellow flowers in her hair. She watches as Ganthe ties the knot, clapping when he is done.

Her friend cowers behind. Her mouth wide, like it has been slit with a knife. Her ear deformed, looking almost like a nose.

“Síltu toith demsaithsí?” the friend asks, her voice like ringing bells, sweet and dainty.

Ganthe realises the friend only has half a face. That’s why she cowers.

“Toith déanthli ánnasi nó lonsi?”

“Don’t look at them!” Ifonsa cries, her voice harsh and discordant. “Don’t answer their questions.”

“Do you wish to dance?” the faerie with emerald eyes asks. “Or love me forever?”

Ifonsa arrives. She appears horrid and obscene with her hair fire, and her eyes ice. Creeping vines crawl across her skin their broad leaves barely covering her nakedness. Fronds and tendrils reach out, palpating. At her forehead dangles a withered white rose, it petals tumbling free. Adjacent, a red rose grows, the side closest to the white browning, the first signs of decay.

“This one is mine,” Ifonsa says to the faeries, “You cannot have it without challenge.”

“It’s not fair!” the faerie’s friend cries. “You claim so many.”

“I caught them. They are mine.” Ifonsa says, “But I bought gifts.”

“What gifts are these that you brought?” the emerald eyed one asks, “Not more aihmleah?”

“Many more ahmleah.”

Both faeries, Emerald Eyes and Half Face, squeal in unison, “Chluasdo! Chluas!” as they clamp their hands over their ears, and ear respectively.

“They dance poorly,” Emerald Eyes pouts.

“And glín very small.” Half Face adds. “Not like this one,” she points at Ganthe, “Bealiadh happy.”

“They taste of foulness and dirt.”

Ganthe rises and stretches. He draws up and fastens the knot that has loosened.

“Do you reject my gifts to you?” Ifonsa asks, her voice fading.

From behind Ganthe hears a noise, gradually loudening. It sounds like heavy rain approaching across a wide river, the constant thrumming becoming more intense.

“That was nice,” Sunna says, nuzzling up to him. She wraps her arms around him and kisses his neck. “We will need to get rid of this nonsense though,” she says stroking his beard.

There are screams hidden in the thrumming, Ganthe realises. Faerie screams. Terrified faerie screams.

“Why don’t you carry me for a change?” Sunna says.

Ganthe bends low so Sunna can slide onto his back. He grabs her thighs as she places her arms around his neck.

“Run” Ifonsa says to him. One of her tendrils reaches up to brush at her fiery hair.

Fascinated, Ganthe wonders how the tendril doesn’t burst into flames.

“Run!” Ifonsa yells.

Ganthe considers asking why, but then Sunna prompts him onward, digging her feet into his ribs. Ganthe scrambles up the hill. Almost immediately he is out of breath within a few steps. Sunna is heavy. Heavier than he remembers.

“Run!” Ifonsa repeats in his ear. “On the horse you fool!”

“At least you tried,” Sunna neighs as Ganthe swings himself up onto her back. The thrumming sounds as though it is just behind them.

Together they race away, and the world around them dissolves...

A spectral hall, arched along its entire length, the stones long since turned to dust.... A moonlight stairway leading up.... A white palace bathed in golden rays..... Strangelings, half-seen ghosts in mail and white cloaks hurry past.... Silver.... and silence....

Sunna raced down the hill heedlessly. Ganthe hung on for his dear life, keeping low and spread across her back so that a branch wouldn’t sweep him from the saddle.

Falduin’s horse galloped just ahead. It had the same reckless behaviour and wide-eyed look as Sunna. The wizard slumped in the saddle yet somehow remained mounted.

Ganthe glanced back. Lera and her mount galloped a short distance behind. Following her was Tegalie, Heric and finally, some distance behind, Ifonsa. Yet Ganthe’s gaze went to the hill they had just descended.

The faerie lights surrounded a dark cloud, as it floated down the hill. Wave after wave of the lights assaulted the darkness, slamming into it. They swirled up and around, flying in the air in a magnificent maelstrom. Ganthe would have laughed and cheered, the sight was so beautiful, but as he watched more and more of the lights winked out as they were consumed by the darkness.

Suddenly a tree brushed past him. Then others, as they hurtled into a thick forest, the faeish illumination subsuming. Ganthe got a brief glimpse of trees with massively broad trunks, before the shadows smothered all but his keenest perceptions. Ganthe rose up and drew back on Sunna’s reins, hoping to slow her. He wanted to return to see what had happened to the lights. Yet Sunna precipitously plunged onward, despite the darkness.

Out of the blackness a heavy branch appeared, hanging low. Ganthe ducked beneath, but didn’t quite manage the timing. The bough clipped his head. The blow stunning him, yet he remained in the saddle.

“Sorry,” Sunna cried.

“I’m fine,” Ganthe called back.

The next thing he remembered was Sunna coming to a sudden stop and the flickering of torchlight. They were in a glade. The dragon was there, coiled up and ready to strike. The eagle had landed, but had its wings out, as if prepared to leap into the air and fly away. Then the king and queen arrived, arguing about who saved whom, as the crowd watched them.

The crowd... the crowd looked odd. It took Ganthe a moment to understand that at least twenty men and women filled the branches of the nearby trees. All of them were dressed in variations of greens and browns. Some of them carried flaming brands, torches that revealed the massive trees stretching upward to disappear into the shadows above. The others had warbows, out and strung with arrows notched.

They were aimed straight at Ganthe and the others.