The smooth cloth-like bark of the One Tree sinuously moved under his gaze, his presence awakening and calling forth his brothers resting peacefully within. First one and then more, their faces pushing on the outer bark, a game to define their faces, nothing more than a greeting. As one joined in facial salute another faded back into the vast depths of the trunk.
Gloringas smiled in recognition of each as they presented.
“Welcome home Lord Prince, most favoured of our Goddess Mara, may her blessing forever protect us.”
The whimsical voice of the speaker normal and well known to the Prince, to others an almost unbearable high-pitched whine; to him the pleasant welcome music of home. The owner of the voice forever young, long golden hair cascading down her back, ends licking the curves of her firm buttocks, emerald eyes always sparkling in delight.
The Elven Prince turned to face his gracious host, as the first Dryad, the Protector of the One Tree; the most ancient and therefore utmost honoured. The Goddess calling her into existence before him and his brothers.
He scouted earlier, which is why he approached the One Tree and called forth its Protector for an answer.
“You honour me Ancient One, although in truth as first called, I surrender to you the title most honoured.”
She flitted about, disappearing and then appearing elsewhere, tinkling laughter echoing upon leaving and arriving. His smile broadened. Her ancient heart still blessed by an innocence and purity, which she shared with all around her.
Her body glowed and her smile brightened. “I am glad the Goddess called forth you and your brothers to protect me and her forest from wicked men.”
“You say those words every time we meet.” His eyes soft, kind.
Her face grew serious, as it always did at this point. “They simply walked in, paid no homage, no askance and stole. I and the Goddess felt vulnerable and besieged in our own demesne!”
A smirk. “You know they didn’t mean any harm and in fact were confused.”
“You say that, but since you weren’t there you don’t know.” She folded her arms, curtly nodding her head, the childish escaping the ancient wisdom which must be hers, a contradiction in the one being due to the memory of that single moment, forever haunting.
He bowed, like he always did at this point and kept his thoughts to himself. Given he and his brothers secretly escorted the two intruders from the Goddess’ forest, he discovered the first, who limped on his only foot with the help of a token branch from the One Tree, their transgression; called the other Bellerophon, while Bellerophon named the other Judge, an ordinary human then, before he claimed his divinity.
Mollified by his concession, she responded unbidden to the reason for his visit.
“Your guests have become three and have been relocated my Prince, they drew upon the life of the One Tree, although one gave back when Judge’s Sun shone upon her. I summoned one of the Ancestors of the Cursed to remove them.”
He raised a blonde eyebrow. “Three guests? You only called one to toil?” Her admissions too confusing for different reasons.
“They owe much, one of us and not one of us and she I am told is … disruptive and ungrateful.”
The Cursed, a blind time for him and his brothers, a stab in his heart as fresh as the day their cursed became known. She wiped a tear from his eye, her soft touch quick.
“I apologise Prince for upsetting you, perhaps I will restrict myself to calling them Elfkin, which they themselves seemed to have accepted over the many years …”
Gloringas bowed. “Thank-you, like you, memory haunts me long after the event.”
She disappeared into the One Tree. Perhaps their memories didn’t compare, and he over-reached in his comparison. More of concern, dusk began to fall, the herald of the night. Here? How?
At a lost to explain the dark he returned to the fact she mentioned three and he thought to find his multiple guests by himself, within the vastness of the Faerie Forest if need be. Before he took his first step she returned.
“Do you wish to travel within the One Tree or walk my Prince?”
“Dusk?”
“The Cur … Elfkin are a burden Prince, they drain the One Tree to provide for them.” She blushed bright red. “They may have failed in many ways, they didn’t in one, procreation. Almost rabbit like in fact.”
His mouth formed a surprised O, why didn’t he know. He answered his own question, many years of aimless travel, very few visits and an obvious well-known truth all assumed he knew?
“We walk then?”
The Ancient One would need to stay close to her tree, so the distance to the three guests therefore short. Darkness well upon them when they reached their destination, a question upon his face.
“The Bald Hill my Prince, with some persuasion and cultivation the trees, bush and brush graciously relocated.”
Her voice alerting the Elfkin, who otherwise tended to her duties, including watering her patients. She stood to attention expecting a familiar taskmaster and discovered two. Her green eyes wide and wild, her mind indecisive.
“A simple courtesy will be ample girl,” said Gloringas.
She quickly complied and stepped back, out from under their sight. Gloringas wondering when disruptive and ungrateful would surface in her behaviour and attitude.
“The first you surrendered to us needing salvation. The Healing contained within her redirected to bind her spirit to her soul and hence acceptance by her body. The Faerie Magic potent and I believe she could have travelled the root of the One Tree without your company my Prince given the success of the other two.”
Gloringas contemplated her words. The protection of the Faerie Forest depended upon the One Tree identifying those not Faerie and yet Charis imbued the child, no human woman, lying before him under the night sky with enough of her borrowed magic to blind the One Tree.
“The life moss accepted her although non-faerie and accelerated the maturing and growth of her body, thereby nurturing her soul to accommodate the older spirit.”
He knelt to run his fingers across the moss, little of her flesh exposed. The moss called to him, acknowledging his royalty and more direct connection to the Goddess. He in turn acknowledging the moss, the concentrated life force, the harvesting of nutrients and gifting of life, tiny roots gaining purchase by penetrating their subject’s skin. A wide swath of moss, three times as much around her as attached to her. The moss on soil harvesting and the moss on flesh feeding, while the Elfkin watered the entire patch.
Gloringas eyes betrayed his appreciation. The life mosses a defence not a healer. Any intruders who lay upon it would be drained of life, not gifted life and this natural inclination needed to be cajoled and encouraged in complete opposition to its very nature.
Her merry laughter surrounded him, an acknowledgement. “You underestimate my powers Prince, although I concede the moss unusually eager to sample the Faerie Magic on offer within the body.”
“Still …”
She waved her hand at the second visitor. The Prince recognised both, Charis at their feet now and beside her, ever beside her, Helice. Although the Ancient One excitedly danced around Helice.
“She provides! Healthy of mind and body, Faerie Magic generates from her, especially in the strong sunlight and the main reason all three rest here.”
“How do you harvest her magic?” asked Gloringas, perplexed.
“She dreams my Prince. Observe the reach of her fingers, stretched, seeking the other. The other likewise, trying to touch in kind. The root of the One Tree completes the joining and she freely offers her magic to the other, believing the other calls to her.”
“Dreams?”
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“She is extremely resilient and therefore the dream simple and direct. I doubt a dream beyond that complication would escape her consciousness and therefore suffer rejection. The other though extremely susceptible and easily manipulated, her past exploits extracted, except for a portion she herself is unaware of. Yet she doesn’t recover, her body healed, her mind, soul and spirit whole and yet, unwell. A mystery my Prince.”
“Both have Faerie Gifts buried within their flesh and yet only Helice contributes?”
Gloringas then points to the bright healthy flowers growing upon the second body, thriving, naturally attracted to the location of an Item. On the other body they grow in place, although stunted and twisted, struggling to bloom, bereft of any flowers or buds.
“Her gifts should yield much Faerie Magic and yet, don’t. Although their gifts most remarkedly allowed them passage into the Faerie Forest unaccompanied by you along a root of the One Tree.”
Gloringas frowned while running a hand through his fine blond hair. While trusted to an extent, the invasion into the Faerie Forest by any non-Faerie cause for concern. Would the Items alone allow passage, or would they need to be ‘full’ of Faerie Magic harvested from the sun?
“Could we convince the third, she names herself Charis, to heal the second, named Helice to drain all her magic?”
“The manipulation via a dream easily accomplished my Prince, although unwise. The Helice one would realise her dream false, react to the other one in an unknown way, perhaps shocked enough to wake from the charm we have each under and the first is too far away and again I am not sure what would become of her and the moss, when she is so close to full recovery.” The Dryad’s eyes strayed towards the crouched Elfkin, silent, perhaps wishing to be ignored, the Prince’s eyes following.
“Girl, your name?”
The Elfkin jumped her heart thundering in reaction to being addressed. Her eyes slowly rising, scanning the Elven Prince from booted toe to affable smile.
“Fff … Flower … Lord,” she whispered, her head quickly bowing afterwards.
“To me, we need your assistance.”
She stood and hesitated, her mind wondering how a lowly Elfkin could assist the Prince of Elves and the Matriarch of Dryads. The Dryad’s happy face a honey sweet welcome. She contemplated escape, for a moment, not really knowing why. The passing days a confusion for her, she wished to return to her Branch, her people, each knew their place and their duty. The surety now welcome whereas previously she railed against such routine, to do the same, yielding the same, which in reality meant a slow death. A certainty at least instead of this, whatever this would result in.
Against her wishes, she willed herself to take a step closer, and then another until before the Prince, her mouth dry, swallowing now futile.
“Take a sip from your waterskin, we have much to discuss,” said the Prince.
How did he know? She did as bid and quaffed down water from the waterskin.
“Which Branch do you come from little one?”
“Our hunting area is on the Northern border of the Forest, Lord. We are descended from your children and proud of our heritage.” She chose to reveal this truth to him, perhaps whatever he needed from her would be constrained by their linage.
More thinking out loud than replying, Gloringas said, “Yes, my last child, so long ago …”
“Several hundred years my Prince,” answered his Dryad host, somewhat helpfully. Her sing song voice breaking him from his wayward thought.
“We have a task, quite simple really. We need you to hold Charis’ free hand. Can you do that?”
She nodded slowly, all three charmed beyond reaction by the Dryad so … surely harmless. Kneeling down the Dryad Matriarch stroked her deep brown hair causing concern, although not the first time her touch utilised to express support and comfort.
“If our plan is successful, Charis will fill you with healing magic. Being healthy we assume the magic will wash over you.”
His head bobbed in encouraging confirmation, she assumed trying to convince her. She instinctively nodded back, although only the once, meeting his expectation and no more.
A haunting tune graced the still air around them, the Dryad Matriarch the source. With the Prince’s eyes firmly fix upon her, Flower held onto Charis’ hand, shortly after lying down beside their guest for comfort.
The sunshine of a warm Birth Season day rolled over her flesh, the first pass closing small scratches even she couldn’t remember. The sunlight touched her mind and realigned misgivings, misunderstanding, misinterpretations as a natural and pleasant order of business and her body relaxed into a trance like state, her immediate surrounds a haze as she rode a wave of oneness with the magic, which permeated her being, her soul triggering remembrance to purpose.
Gloringas stood in awe as Flower’s body shimmered before him, her slight body thinning further, arms and legs lengthening, long fingers attached although the whole much smaller in size, perhaps a fifth of her former self. Her quaint leather shirt and trousers shrinking to match. An unrecognisable Faerie humanoid greeted him, her eyes blinking in recognition, her mouth opening to speak before another change grabbed her consciousness.
“I know not the name of the Goddess’ creation, although I can inform your Prince the Faerie Magic for the creature issued from a golden circle buried in Charis’ left breast.”
The next form taller, perhaps twice as tall as her first change, white hair on her head, long wide white eyebrows, the lines on her very human face representing wisdom and determination. She willed colourful lights into being, blinking in and out lighting up Bald Hill like day.
“Again, my Prince an unknown creation, although issued from another golden circle although buried within Charis’ other breast.”
The Elfkin returned to her normal height, hair aglow with silver and her face radiant and lovely.
“Prince avert your eyes now!” shouted his host.
Gloringas complied with haste, the urgency in the Dryad’s voice destroying any sing song.
“This Faerie Creature I know Prince, a Nymph, private and not tolerant of intrusion, several guard waterways within the Forest to trap the foolish. The source, a golden ring Prince.”
Webbed hands and feet then covered the Elfkin as the Nymph form faded, a tint of green to her skin deepened, silver eyes stared at him and dark green hair enveloped her head. Gloringas resisted the charm of the swirling eyes to embrace the creature before him. A colony known to him and well avoided.
“Nixie, my Prince, the Item enchanted for one purpose, to charm, although weakened by itself. Another paired to the ring from another Nixie would be overwhelming as the strength of their charm strengthens with numbers.”
The transformation quickly over, followed by the Elfkin shrinking in proportion, less than half her true height, gossamer wings, long pointed ears and antenna sprouting from her forehead, her skin colour pale once again. Before Gloringas could announce the name, the Elfkin changed again. Her height increased slightly, her antenna disappeared, although retaining her long-pointed ears and wings. While recognising the creature Gloringas’s thoughts became interrupted as he tried to maintain his balance.
The hill erupted, a deep gouged ran towards them as the One Tree’s root freed itself from surrounding soil preparing to strike, whip like. Gloringas matched trajectory with target quickly realising Charis the perceived threat. Before he could react, the root returned to the soil, the hill silent.
Gloringas looked to his Dryad host and she answered with a look of her own, her eyes directing him to looked upon their two guests. Helice and Charis, hands joined, a sweet peace upon both of their faces.
“We have proof, my Prince. The Magic in the Items allows them to conceal any evil within. Stripped of their magic the One Tree reacted quickly, Charis only saved by her bonded sister’s gift of magic.”
“Yes, I glimpsed the evil darkness within Charis, which explains much and requires a great deal of thought on my part. Perhaps the Items are best kept within the Faerie Forest regardless of the painful memory of loss, although I know Charis and her sisters acquired them from the unsavoury, which means they aren’t the source.”
Sobbing gained their attention, the source silent once their eyes focused upon her.
“Wonderful and pitiful, my fate denied or more honestly my ancestor’s fate denied due to theft of our heritage or right. How could my Prince allow such to go unpunished? We are lost from purpose and wait to die in this paradise and yet I have now seen what we should have become.” Her crying renewed, chest hitching causing the now long golden hair to cascade around her, fingers running through the strands for her eyes to appreciate.
Gloringas stood in awe as Flower’s hair finally settled into a brilliant golden yellow, reminiscent of his past children, before the discovery of the curse and his withdrawal from the world.
He knelt before her and scooped her up into an embrace.
“You are right, your Prince has failed you and your ancestors, prepared to run from the world instead of righting the world. Well no more child, your baptism of Faerie Magic has awakened me and my brothers, we will once again step into the world and resume our duty to the Goddess and while watchful hunt evil.”
“My Prince you can’t promise such, your duty is clear, no more and no less, the Goddess degreed our future!”
“I am not forgetting my duty to my Goddess. I am just ensuring her goal is realised and no more Faerie births fail to realise their purpose. So, awaken my brothers we march back into the world.”
She cringed at his fervour and cheered at his renewal to purpose and she hated to tell him, but she must.
“Prince, none now call for you and your kind, you have been forgotten …”
Gloringas stood stupefied. They did call many years ago … how many? Generations of humans many, no wonder we are forgotten. How to reignite their memory, when for humans praying to their Gods a ritual of society, not a dedication to faith.
“Perhaps she holds the answer my Prince.”
“Charis? She has a worse fate to face, the evil within, it festers waiting to grow.”
“She cannot remain here, her destiny lies elsewhere and perhaps while she wrestles with her future, she can spread your legend again.”
“How will they call to us? We destroyed the Shrine of Saph in fear, long ago.”
“You so easily forget the entrance to our forest near Lonely Keep. I need to withdraw the One Tree from there for many now obvious, dangerous reasons. When drawn there by the release of the Faerie Magic in the Items I couldn’t restrain the One Tree’s urge to protect and rescue. Now we know the call false, the wasted effort and spent magic will be proven insightful. There is a Shrine of Saph nearby, which could serve our purpose.”
The Prince of Elves shivered. What if?
“Ancient, what if the enemy or even Charis and her sisters were to burn several Items, would the One Tree answer their destruction?”
The Dryad gently laughed. “The One Tree learns and remembers. I suggested the first time to send an Elf Lord first, I am sure a second time the One Tree will heed my advice.
“We can’t wake her and ask her to help …”
“No, my Prince, not in the Faerie Forest, she wouldn’t want to leave until her curiosity satisfied. Outside, the request would be a strange question to ask, let alone convince her and you would need to wait until she woke from her charm. Perhaps a dream?”
“You could fabricate such a dream?”
“No, my Prince, I propose we use your memory of the curse’s discovery and feed the truth to her in a dream.”
His failings shared and unyielding ways exposed. He shivered. A warm hand enclosed his, her blue eyes reassuring, pleading, an Elfkin girl reminding him of a greater purpose and the folly of questioning his personal cost.
“How?”
“Join the One Tree with your brothers. I will guide the One Tree to connect to Charis’ mind, normally an impossibility, although I am certain now given her current vulnerability, which I suspect is an unintended gift from the evil within her.”