“Boy,” the dandelion-headed figure said. Its voice was scratchy yet somehow compelling, and a shiver of dread flooded down Josh’s spine, for reasons he couldn’t understand. The figure had made no threatening moves, why was he so afraid of it?
It stretched out its arms to either side. It was wearing ragged grey robes, with long, voluminous sleeves that were frayed like cobwebs. It leapt lightly from the gatepost onto the ground, landing without a sound. Now that it wasn’t outlined against the sky, Josh could see it more clearly. It had a long, thin face with a long, thin nose, and bright grey eyes with tiny pin-prick pupils. When it smiled, he noticed that its teeth were pointed. Even though it was technically human-shaped, there was very little about it that felt human.
He felt an urge bring his quarterstaff up into a defensive hold and back away, but repressed it. The creature put him in mind of a predator that would pounce the moment he showed fear or tried to retreat.
“Boy,” it said again. It tilted its head to the opposite side. “Do you know what’s in the tower, boy?”
Despite himself, Josh glanced over his shoulder at the tower, and when he looked back the dandelion-headed thing was suddenly several feet closer, without him having seen it move.
“Don’t you want to see, boy?” it pressed.
Josh hadn’t noticed its ears, which were long, slender and pointed, until it flicked one, and inclined its head as if listening to something. It let out a long sigh and looked at him with an expression that was both cunning but also oddly wry, the first human emotion it had displayed.
After a moment, Josh heard it too—the sound of horse hooves, and carriage wheels crunching on gravel.
Before long, a fat coach swept up outside the gates. It was shaped like a pumpkin, and drawn by six gleaming white horses bearing dark purple plumes on their heads. The coachman was a short, squad individual with a head so wide it looked as if it was growing directly out of his shoulders. His eyes, dark and toad-like, fixed on the dandelion-haired person without expression, then transferred to Josh.
He had a large-lipped mouth that was nearly as wide as his jaw. He opened this now and said, in a deep, gravelly voice, “The young lad for the Queen.”
The dandelion-haired person hissed.
Josh sidled uneasily past him to get to the gates, but when he reached his hand out to open them, he heard faint music that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Touching the gates suddenly seemed an inordinately dangerous thing to do. The coachman’s eyes flicked up to the top of the tower, and then away quickly. Josh’s head was drawn in that direction as if of its own accord. From this angle he couldn’t see much except for a pale figure looking down at him.
The dandelion-haired person—creature—let out a high-pitched giggle.
“Boy doesn’t want to go.” It sidled closer. “Boy wants to stay?” It asked, suggestively.
Josh hastily brought up his quarterstaff, and before he could second-guess himself, used the end to flick open the latch. The silvery gate swung open silently, and he wriggled his way though, being careful not to touch it.
When he looked up at the tower window again, the white figure was gone.
The coachman looked down at him impassively, clearly waiting, so Josh climbed into the coach, sinking down into soft velvety cushions. His palms were sweating where he clutched the staff, and his mouth was dry. The coach lurched as the coachman set the horses in motion, and when Josh looked out of the window, he saw the dandelion-haired figure watched them go, but window of the tower was just a dark, gaping hole.
Josh spent most of the journey trying to convince himself that he had been imagining the sheer level of creepiness, but the sudden changes in the landscape they travelled through kept jarring him back into paranoia. One moment they were travelling down an avenue bordered by giant, stately beech trees in full autumn glory, the horses’ hooves muffled by soft drifts of flame-coloured leaves. Then they swept around a corner into a plain that stretched as far as the eye could see, covered in whispering green grass that rustled in the breeze. When Josh looked behind him there was no sign of any beech trees.
The road—which at this stage was little more than two beaten earth tracks—dipped down into a gully and then suddenly they were travelling through a winter wilderness, with tall spires of dark rock encased in ice. Josh’s breath plumed in the air in front of him, but before he could do more than shiver once, they had passed through an archway and were trotting rapidly along a causeway across a lake so still it resembled a mirror. At the far end of the causeway was an island with a jumbled castle growing out of it. The lower parts of it were wreathed in mist, but above that the sun shone on warm, golden sandstone.
Once across the causeway, the horses swept smartly into a narrow passage that opened out into a large courtyard, drawing up in front of a grand staircase that led into the central keep of the castle, which was flanked by two statues of prancing unicorns. The courtyard was thronged with people, of all different shapes and sizes. The stone unicorn nearest to Josh had a row of tiny, winged people sitting on its back as if riding it. They were all quarrelling ferociously in high-pitched voices. One of them pushed one of the others off even as he watched, and it buzzed in annoyance, floating in midair while shaking its fist at its fellows.
Beyond that was a vendor with a tray around his neck, selling thimble-sized paper cups brimming with honey liqueur. The vendor himself was short, about half Josh’s height, and wearing a pixie cap, from which escaped tufts of white hair sticking in all directions. His nose was so long it curved down over his mouth towards his chin, and he had disproportionately large hands and feet.
The vendor’s customer, by contrast, was so tall that his head rose above the carriage roof. He had a pair of curved horns sweeping backwards over his head, and legs like a bull, with reversed knee joints and cloven hooves. His lower half was covered in glossy black fur. Instead of drinking the liqueur, he tossed the cup in his mouth and swallowed it as if it was a pill.
Josh climbed out of the coach, and then up at the coachman. Where was he supposed to go now? Into the main keep? After a moment, the coachman noticed his stare and jerked his head towards the steps.
Okay then.
The doors swung open on their own as he mounted the last of the steps, revealing a great hall full of sunbeams slanting downwards from high windows. After the bustle of the courtyard there was an immediate sense of space and peace, with motes of dust dancing lazily in air that was redolent with the combined scents of lemon and beeswax.
A tall, slender man crossed the hall towards him, dressed like an eighteenth-century butler, except he had eyebrows that extended outwards in a slender, feathery spine to either side of his head. He had compound eyes, like an insect, in a brilliant jewelled green. His bearing managed to imply courteous attention, but without a hint of servility.
“Welcome, visitor,” he said, in a smooth voice that held a hint of a buzz. “The Queen will see you now.”
He led the way to the floor above, and out onto a terrace that overlooked the lake, where a party of some sort seemed to be in progress, the upper-class sort with drinks and exotic nibbles on trays, borne by circulating waiters. The Queen of the Fey sat in a wicker chair backed by fanned peacock feathers. She wore some pale, diaphanous, gauzy thing, with a slender dagger belted at her hip, and a silver chain diadem draped over the crown of her head.
“The young mortal, your highness,” the butler said.
Josh gave his bow, and was immediately the focus of multiple interested gazes from the assembled courtiers. He had a confusing sense of slender limbs, spiky multi-coloured hair, wings like stained glass, and shimmering silks, but kept his attention on the Queen.
She gestured to a stool beside her, so Josh obediently sat down.
“Bring the mirror,” she commanded, and instantly two servants appeared carrying a full-length mirror between them, which was covered with a cloth. She turned to Josh. “Are you committed this course?”
Although her tone was neutral, she reminded Josh oddly of a Dungeon Master asking, “Are you sure you want to take the Crimson Eye Jewel from the dead body of the High Priest and place it in the socket of the Elder God's statue?”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Yes?” he tried.
The corner of her mouth quivered, as if she was amused, but then the expression vanished and she was cold and serene again.
“Think of the one you wish to find,” she commanded, so Josh dutifully recalled his memory of meeting Rob the Hedge Knight. The Queen made a gesture with her hand, and one of the servants pulled the cloth from the mirror with a flourish.
The mirror reflected a wavy, distorted view of Josh sitting next to the Queen, but even as he watched the colours bled into each other and swirled like paint caught in the rain. He blinked, and when he looked again, he saw a shadowy cavern with shards of rock thrusting from the ground like stalagmites, but jagged instead of rounded. Rob was there, in full armour, with shadowed eyes, and a dirt-smudged face. He had his sword out, and was holding it in front him while his gaze flicked around him.
He didn’t look as if he was in a safe place.
“Step through the mirror to join him,” the Queen said.
“I can’t just talk to him instead? Or invite him through the mirror?” Josh asked. “Uh, I mean, your highness.”
“He won’t hear or see you unless you are on the other side.”
Leaving both Rob and Josh abandoned in the middle of fairyland.
“How do we get home?” Josh asked. The courtiers all tittered, while the Queen stared at him with an expectant, raised eyebrow.
“What do I need to offer to find my way home?” he asked, with gritted teeth.
“For two people?” The Queen steepled her hands in front of her and regarded him thoughtfully. The courtiers started offering suggestions in clear, bell-like voices.
“A shaft of frozen moonlight,” one called.
“Dew from a thousand cobwebs!” called another.
“The laughter of seven beautiful maidens,” a third put in.
The Queen ignored them all.
“A journey for a journey,” she said at last. “Agreed?”
“You mean I undertake a journey for you at some point in the future?” Josh asked, suspiciously.
The Queen inclined her head in agreement.
“A long journey?”
“Of equivalent length.”
“A dangerous one?”
“Of equivalent danger.”
“What if I’m in the middle of something else?”
“At your convenience, within reason.”
They stared at each other.
“Okay,” Josh said reluctantly. He didn’t see that he had a choice, and could only hope that the cavern Rob was in wasn’t in some far off realm that would ordinarily take months to travel to.
The Queen produced a coin from her fingers, like a magician performing a magic trick.
“Tails,” she said, holding it up between her index and middle finger. “You return to Dendral.” She flipped the coin in the air, and caught it showing the other side. “Heads,” she smiled, “You return here.”
“How do I make it work?” Josh asked.
“This coin is to be spent. Simply hold it in your palm, with the side you wish to use uppermost. As with all magic in these lands, it works from your intent.” She took his hand, her skin as smooth as silk against his, and pressed the coin into his palm. “Spend wisely,” she murmured, and then gestured to the mirror.
Josh took a deep breath, and stepped through the glass.
Instantly, he was in a dark cave that reeked of sulphur. There was a semi-circle of jagged curved rocks around him, and a spongy mat of moss or algae beneath his feet. There was very little light, most of it cast by a torch jammed into the moss that was already flickering and dying, as if low on fuel. Rob’s face materialised out of the darkness, his sword at the ready.
“It’s me!” Josh said. “Josh! Uh, we met? On the road? A few weeks back?”
Rob’s face was hard with suspicion, and Josh realised that after his time in fairyland, he might not trust everything he saw, given the fey penchant for trickery and illusion.
“You gave me some pheasants, and your purse,” Josh said rapidly. “I need your help!”
“He speaks truth,” another voice said.
Something lithe hopped lightly onto a nearby rock. Josh realised it was a fox, with russet fur and a white tipped tail. No, it had two tails. He looked around for the person who had spoken.
“Who else is here?”
“It’s just me,” Rob said. He nodded to the fox. “And her.”
Josh stared at the fox. That could only mean…
“You can talk?”
“He’s quick,” the fox said dryly, then added, “For a mortal.”
“Where are we?” Josh asked, looking around.
He had a sense of a great, echoing space, but it was entirely dark except for the lonely pool of flickering light around the sputtering torch. They were standing on a semi-circular ledge, ringed by the jagged rocks he’d seen earlier and mistaken for stalagmites. Behind them was cave mouth, about the height of a man, from which was gusting warm, foetid air.
“Fookin’ fooked if I know, mate.”
“I believe this to be the Cave of Wyrms,” the fox observed.
“There’s something out there,” Rob said. “I keep hearing movement. It doesn’t come into the torchlight, though.”
“Uh, do you have another torch?”
“Last one, mate,” Rob said, calmly, as if it wasn’t a problem that he was out of illumination in the middle of a giant cave, while some unseen monster prowled just beyond the light’s edge.
There was the sound of cracking rock, and Josh felt a tremor beneath his feet. He hastily thumbed through his spell book, found the Heat spell, and tore it out. The spongy material they were standing on might be flammable. He scrabbled at the ground, tearing up several hanks of the stuff, and cast Heat on it to dry it out. He set it carefully on top of a rock and used a second Heat spell to light it. It smouldered, and he backed away from it, coughing, but after a minute it blazed up and burned cheerfully.
It wouldn’t last long, and it would take a lot of Heat spells to keep it going, but Josh only needed enough time to convince Rob to leave with him using the magic coin.
He opened his mouth to suggest it, but then realised there was something odd about the breeze. The flame from the torch and his burning moss was now being pulled in the opposite direction, which meant the wind was now blowing into the cavern mouth behind them, instead of out. Even as he watched, it reversed direction again.
He took another look at the semi-circular platform ringed by jagged rocks around him.
“Shit! Are we standing inside a mouth?”
“I wondered when you would notice,” the fox said, amused.
The floor beneath them vibrated again. Rob swore and leapt out of the ring of rocks that Josh presumed must be teeth. Josh was hot on his heels. They lost their footing and tumbled into the darkness. Josh bashed his shoulder, and felt the wound in his abdomen flare with pain, while Rob cursed nearby in a string of profanities. The tiny island of light where the torch still burned sudden dimmed and receded, as the platform they had been standing on reared up high above them.
The fox muttered something, and a pale, blueish light expanded around them, the source a blue flame that flickered and danced above its head.
“Is that fox fire?” Josh asked, fascinated.
The fox’s eyes snapped to him, and narrowed in displeasure.
“A fookin’ mouth? We was standing on a fookin’ monster tongue? You could have fookin’ told us,” Rob yelled to the fox. “And since when can you make light, you lying little gobshite?”
There was a series of short, sharp echoes high above them, as if someone was trying to start a faulty motor, and a different light bloomed, harsh and white after the darkness. Both Rob and Josh flinched, blinded, their eyes watering. When Josh was finally able to lower his arm, the entire cavern was visible.
It was about the size of two or three football fields, with a vast arching roof covered in stalactites, and a series of natural terraces spilling down into the centre, which held dome-shaped rocks, some of which were cracked open … oh hell, those were eggs. And the remains of hatched eggshells. Maybe the baby wyrms were the creatures Rob had heard skittering around in the darkness.
More importantly, the mother wyrm was still tearing her vast bulk free of the rocky encrustations around her. Splintered stone cascaded off her flanks, crashing all around them, and the tremors resulting from her movement caused several of the stalactites to break free and fall to the cavern floor.
In shape she was like a vast snake, or a long, slender, flexible crocodile, with a ridged double row of scales down her back, and small, vestigial limbs. When she finally looked down at them, Josh nearly wet himself with fear, because the light that filled the cavern was issuing from her eyes and mouth, burning as bright as phosphorous.
She screamed, and suddenly there was only sound. It filled Josh’s whole world and there was nothing he could do but clamp his hands over his ears in a completely useless gesture, because the scream was like a tsunami that swept over him, blanketing him so completely he was unable to sense anything else.
When the sound finally died away his ears hurt, his head was ringing, and he was curled up in a foetal position on the cavern floor. There were rocks digging painfully into his side, but he hadn’t been able to feel them until just now.
The scream was probably something to make the mother wyrm’s prey freeze so she could eat them. Josh needed to move right now. He staggered to his feet. Even as he stood, a large, solid weight slammed into him and he tumbled down another slope, sliding to a stop in a cloud of rock dust several feet away. He’d skinned a knee and part of his arm, and his head rang from hitting it on something. Only his constant training with the staff had enabled him to hold onto it instinctively instead of dropping on it.
The weight on top of him moved.
It was Rob who had slammed into him and pushed him down the slope. Not far above them the mother wyrm’s maw was scraping angrily at the area where they had been lying only moments ago, but she was curiously silent. Josh could only hear a ringing sound in his ears. It wasn’t until Rob pulled him to his feet, his mouth moving in a soundless shout, that Josh realised they were both deaf.
They ran.
After several strides, Josh realised they were following something russet and blue that dodged gracefully through the clusters of eggs and bits of splintered eggshell. Every so often he saw movement in the shadows, revealing hint of a snapping jaw or a spiked tail, but the wyrmlings seemed wary of the light their mother emitted.
The coin! He should activate it now. Did it need physical contact? The Queen said it worked from intent. He fumbled for it and gripped it tightly in his palm. It would be a disaster if he dropped it. He made sure that the tails side was uppermost, and firmly imagined himself, Rob and the fox back in Dendral, right outside Mayad’s shrine.
He could feel the magic rise to his will, but there was a strange, dragging sensation, as if some element of the spell was missing.
Had the Queen betrayed him? Was the coin faulty?
He risked a glance over his shoulder, and saw that the mother wyrm had abandoned her investigation of the area they had just run away from and was snaking her head over the rest of the cavern, searching for them. The shadow of her vast form slid over them, and Josh put all his energy into running as fast as he could after Rob and the fox.
Hopefully the fox knew where she was going.