The Faerie Path (4 page)

Anita bit her lip. “I hope so.”

The nurse stood up, slipping her hand out of Anita’s. She smiled. “They’ll find him, don’t you worry.”

Anita gazed after her as she walked out of the room, trying not to imagine Evan wandering the corridors confused and in pain, his head throbbing so much that he couldn’t think straight.

She turned her head to stare out of the window at the far end of the ward.

It was a bright, sunny day out there.

It was a bright, sunny day and Evan was stumbling around after a serious accident. He could fall and injure himself. He could walk in front of a car.

Anita shook her head. She had to keep believing that Evan would be found safe and sound, that he would be brought back to her and everything would be all right.

She closed her eyes and saw the bleached image of the window floating on the inside of her eyelids.

She leaned back into the pillows, watching the drifting white stain behind her closed eyes.

She frowned. Instead of blurring and fading, the fuzzy light-stain seemed to be shrinking and altering and taking on a definite shape.

It became the white silhouette of a person hovering behind her eyelids. It was featureless and two-dimensional, but it was definitely the outline of a human being—a man.

Evan?

As she watched, the figure walked forward and reached out a hand to her.

With a gasp, Anita opened her eyes.

It wasn’t Evan.

The man stood about twenty feet away from her, dressed in the sort of clothes they would be using for the school play, clothes from the time of Elizabeth I—a long, black fur-lined cloak, a doublet and hose of dark red material, and knee-high leather boots. He smiled and gave a slight bow. He was handsome, with high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and dark hair drawn back off his face. Anita could see that he was only a few years older than she was.

But there was still something wrong with the image. He was grainy and slightly out of focus like a poorly recorded video, and Anita could see the walls through him.

“Come to me.”

It was the same low, melodic voice that she had heard reading aloud from her book.

“Who are you?” she breathed.

“Come to me and all will be revealed.” The young man’s image flickered and faded for a moment and a new note of urgency entered his voice. “There is little time, my lady. You must come to me.”

Convinced that she was dreaming again, Anita got out of bed.

She walked toward him, but although his legs didn’t move, he drifted away from her.

Now he was holding both hands out toward her.

She padded across the cold floor, but again, he floated back.

She followed him to the end of the ward, to a door that led to a television lounge. He passed right through the closed door.

“Come to me.”

“I’m
trying
.”

She opened the door to the lounge. A few people looked up at her without interest. But none of them looked at the man, even though he was standing right in front of the television.

The man glided backward to an outer door that led onto a small balcony.

Anita opened the door and stepped outside into the bright sunshine. There were a few armchairs pulled up to small plastic tables, but there were no other patients out there.

The beckoning figure was even harder to see now.

“Attend me closely, my lady.” His voice was just a murmur. “You have the power. You must reach for me. Dismiss from your mind all other thoughts. Reach out and touch my hand. Think of nothing else.”

Anita concentrated hard on his outstretched hand. She moved toward him, and this time he did not drift away from her. She came closer, staring at his hand.

None of this is real,
she told herself.

It was nothing as exciting as her flying dream, but all the same, there was something intriguing about the handsome young man, and she wanted to know where he was taking her.

Only a couple of feet separated them now.

“Come, my lady,” he urged again.

He was leaning forward, his arm stretched to its full length, his fingers straining toward her.

With a final effort, she lunged at him.

Their hands touched.

He gave a triumphant shout and his eyes flashed. His long fingers closed around her wrist and he pulled hard.

Anita let out a yelp of pain as she was jerked off her feet.

And as she stumbled forward, the hospital balcony and the nearby buildings and the blue sky and the white sun all evaporated in front of her eyes and she was plunged into a deep, velvet darkness.

“Where am I?” Anita’s voice echoed in her ears.

“Home, my lady,” said the man, draping his cloak around her shoulders to cover her pajamas. “Your long exile is at an end.”

Anita turned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Who exactly do you think I am?”

“You are Princess Tania, seventh daughter of King Oberon and Queen Titania,” he announced.

She smiled crookedly. Either this was the most vivid dream she had ever experienced, or she was going completely crazy.

“I see,” she said. “And you would be…?”

He bowed low. “I am Gabriel Drake, the Duke of Weir.”

The leather-bound book! She was inside the fairy tale! Gabriel Drake was the man who had been going
to marry the lost princess.

“This is cool,” Anita said. “What a shame that I’m going to wake up back in hospital any moment now.”

“You are not asleep.” He took her by the elbow and gently turned her around. “Behold your birth-place—behold the Royal Palace of Faerie.”

They were standing on a wooden wharf that jutted out over a wide, dark river. On the far banks, under a blue-gray sky draped with a lacework of stars, lay a vast palace that stretched as far as she could see in both directions. Every room, every tower, every wall was adorned with lights—thousands of lights, throwing their dancing reflections onto the river.

The river was filled with boats, festooned with bobbing lanterns. Music drifted across the water, the sound of harps and flutes and rattling tambourines accompanied by singing and laughter.

Rising in a long, slender span to their left was an ornate bridge of white stone with tall towers at either end. The bridge was lit with flickering torches along its whole length, so that its arc was mirrored in the rippling black water.

Anita knew where she was in an instant. It was the same river and castle that she had seen in her flight the previous night, except that now it was whole and filled with life.

Just as she remembered.

“Yes!” she breathed. “
That’s
what it should look like!”

“Permit me to escort you, my lady.” Gabriel Drake
offered his hand to her. She took it and he led her toward the bridge.

They climbed a set of stone steps onto the bridge. She walked across the river, hand in hand with the young lord, breathing in the smell of flowers that hung in baskets all along the bridge. She knew some of the aromas—her mother was a keen gardener and often filled the house with fresh-cut flowers. Among other, stranger perfumes, she recognized night-scented stock and evening primrose and moonflower.

She glanced at Gabriel Drake’s face. He was very good-looking, she thought, although his deep-set silver eyes were a bit disconcerting. She wondered for a moment why he looked so very happy—then it struck her that it must be because he thought he’d found his long-lost bride.

She hesitated, wondering where this astounding dream would take her next. Not to the altar, she hoped. She wasn’t too keen on the idea of getting married to a total stranger—even if he was strikingly attractive and this was only a dream.

“What do I call you?” she asked him. “Duke? Your Lordship? Mr. Drake?”

He raised his eyebrows very slightly. “You may name me your most devoted servant.”

“I can hardly call you that all the time.”

“Once, you called me beloved,” he said.

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I can call you that, either, if you don’t mind. I’m a princess, right?”

“Verily.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Anita said. “In that case, I’ll call you Gabriel.” She frowned. “This is incredible,” she said. “I mean, look at this place! Who’d have thought my imagination would come up with all this?”

“The realm and dominion of your gracious father has lasted for eternity, my lady,” Gabriel said.

“If you say so.”

At the end of the bridge, a long tongue of white flagstones led to an archway in a high wall. Beyond the arch was a square courtyard. A hundred windows cast light onto them as they crossed the courtyard, Gabriel’s boots ringing on the cobbles. He led her up a short flight of stairs and through an arched doorway.

They walked along a candlelit corridor with oak-paneled walls and tall, mullioned windows. Paintings hung on the walls—portraits of beautiful people in fabulous clothes. Anita noticed that the children in these pictures had fine shining wings, just like the wings she had in her other dream. The adults were all wingless.

Beyond closed doors, she could hear the sound of tinkling music and of voices, but the corridor itself was empty.

They passed through a series of rooms lit by candelabras and filled with such a display of ornate furniture and elegant statuary and exquisite tapestries and artworks that it was like walking through a museum.

“If I’d known I was capable of dreaming up stuff
like this, I’d have spent a lot more time in bed,” Anita said. She looked at Gabriel. “Where are we going?”

“To the Great Hall, my lady.”

He drew her through a low doorway that led to a narrow spiral staircase. At the top there was another door. Through it, Anita could hear the sound of more laughter and of bright, chiming music that came from stringed instruments.

“Sounds like someone’s having a party,” she said.

“It is the feast of the White Hart.”

Gabriel threw open the door and the noise suddenly became much louder. He ushered her onto a high gallery overlooking a huge hall with a high, elaborately vaulted wooden roof and dark-paneled walls hung with tapestries. Flickering yellow candles set in sconces between the tapestries and two chandeliers, also lit with candles, hung from the ceiling. Anita gazed down over the balustrade. The hall was full of people, all dressed in dazzling Elizabethan clothes. At the far end of the hall was a long, wide table filled with trays and bowls and dishes of food. Anita could smell the roast meat. And she could see a small band of musicians gathered in a corner, playing curious, old-fashioned instruments. At the center of the table were two thrones under a scarlet awning. Seated side by side on the thrones were a man and a woman.

The man was dressed in a fur-trimmed black doublet, which was covered in white embroidery and had puffed sleeves that were slashed to show flashes of a white lining. There was a white ruff at his neck and a
simple white crown on his golden hair, encrusted with black jewels. He had a close-cut beard and mustache; high, slanted cheekbones; and deep, piercingly blue eyes.

The woman was wearing a pale blue dress with a lacework of white embroidery over the bodice and the long, slashed sleeves. She had a high ruff that sparkled as if there were white jewels sewn into it. She had bright, wide-set green eyes, snow white skin, and vividly red lips. Set among the curls of her up-drawn red hair was a sapphire-colored coronet set with black stones that flashed in the candlelight.

As Anita gazed down at them, she felt as if she was teetering on the brink of a great dark ocean of memories.

A few others sat at the table, but most of the people were dancing. The steps of the dance were slow and intricate; the men and women weaving in and out of one another in an elaborate pattern that never faltered.

There was a huge stone fireplace, but the fire was not lit and the hearth was filled with vases of flowers.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

But then a solitary, unmoving figure caught her attention.

He was sitting on a stool beside the fireplace. His elbows were on his knees and his head was in his hands, as if he was unaware of the revelries going on all around him. He had long golden hair and he was wearing a green doublet and hose trimmed with yel
low thread. But there was something about him—something in the way his hair curled, something in his posture—that Anita felt sure she recognized.

“Who’s that?” she asked, pulling her hand away from Gabriel’s as she leaned farther out over the banister rail. “I know him.”

The moment she let go of Gabriel’s hand, everything changed.

The hall was plunged into a yellowish half-light. The dancers all dissolved away. The music stopped abruptly. The scent of roasted meat was gone. The long table was bare and the chairs and the two thrones were empty. A coldness wafted up from the hall, along with the musty smell of damp decay.

The only remaining light came from a few yellow candles set on the mantelpiece.

The only person left in the hall was the man in green.

As Anita stared down at him, he lifted his head out of his hands and looked up at her, and in the flickering light she saw his face.

It was Evan.

For a few moments, Anita gazed down in sheer astonishment. Then a relieved smile spread across her face.

She’d found Evan and he was perfectly safe.

“Evan!” she called. “Where have you been? Everyone’s looking for you.”

He glanced up at her for a moment, his face totally expressionless. Then he looked away again.

Puzzled, Anita turned to Gabriel. He was standing beside her, one hand on the polished wooden banister, looking down at Evan with a faint smile on his face.

Evan’s voice came up to them. “Well met, my lord.”

“Our enterprise has met with success, Edric,” Gabriel said. “The lost one has been found, due in no small part to your endeavors.”

Edric? Who’s Edric? Wait, this doesn’t make sense.

Evan bowed his head. “Your eternal servant, my lord,” he said.

“Evan?” Anita called down. “What’s going on? Why are you talking like that?”

“My lady.” Gabriel touched her arm. “The man you knew as Evan is my bonded servant, Edric Chanticleer. I sent him into the Mortal World to find you and bring you home to your rightful place.”

Anita gave a breathless laugh. “No, you’ve got it all wrong,” she said. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Gabriel gazed at her with his deep silvery eyes and she felt a shiver of unease. What was going on? Her dream was getting out of hand. This wasn’t how it should be.

She put her hand to her head, struggling to clear her thoughts. “Listen,” she said. “I’m not a princess. This place isn’t real. That guy down there is my boyfriend, and his name is Evan Thomas.” She stared hard at Gabriel. “And I’d really like to wake up now, please, before this gets any weirder.”

Gabriel smiled at her, his gray eyes filled with compassion. “My lady, you have lived too long in the nightmare of the Mortal World. It is time for you to wake and remember who you truly are.”

Anita shook her head. “No,” she insisted. “Evan and I had an accident, and I think maybe my brain got a bit scrambled. Or it could be the painkillers they gave me, which might be giving me these crazy dreams.” She looked straight into Gabriel’s eyes. “Either way, you’re not real. Evan is my boyfriend,
and just before the boat hit the bridge, he was going to tell me he loved me.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Not so,” he said softly. “He was going to tell you who you really are—Princess Tania, seventh daughter of King Oberon and Queen Titania—and that he had been sent to bring you home.”

Anita turned away from him and leaned over the banister. “Tell him the truth, Evan!” she begged.

The man in green lifted his head and looked at her.
Looked at her with Evan’s eyes
. “The truth is as Lord Drake has told you,” he said. “I am but his lordship’s servant, sent to bring you back to Faerie.”

“No!” Anita shouted. “You love me and I love you. Please, Evan, don’t do this to me.”

She felt as if the dream was spiraling away from her, darkening and warping and changing into a terrifying, spiteful nightmare. Why would her mind do this to her?

Evan turned to Gabriel. “Do I have your leave to depart, my lord?”

“Yes, you may go,” Gabriel said. “You have done well.”

Evan stood up, bowed, and walked the length of the hall to a pair of wide doors that stood open. Anita stared after him, too miserable and disturbed to speak. At the doorway, Evan turned and gave one final bow before stepping back and drawing the doors closed behind him.

The echoing boom of the closing doors struck
Anita like a blow to her stomach. Her mind was flooded with feelings of hurt and betrayal. Could this be true? Did this mean that Evan had never loved her? Had it all been pretense?

In a shadowy corner of her mind, a small voice screamed that none of this could possibly be real. But it
felt
real—it felt all too real, and the emotions that burned through her were as intense as anything she had ever known in her life.

“Why am I here?” she whispered. “Why is this happening?” She closed her eyes and leaned on the wooden rail.

Her thoughts were broken by that familiar soft, velvet voice. “By your leave, my lady, I would like to take you to your father.”

Anita opened her eyes and stared at him in surprise. “My dad? He’s here?”

“He has waited long for your return, my lady.”

“Not
that
long,” Anita pointed out. “I saw him only last night.”

“Not for five times a hundred years have you beheld your father, the High King Oberon,” Gabriel said.

“Oh, right,
him
,” Anita said. “I thought you meant—Well, never mind.” She straightened up. “Okay, Gabriel, since I seem to be stuck in this dream for the time being, I might as well go along with it. Take me to the King.”

Gabriel lifted a candle from a sconce on the wall and opened the small door that led down from the
gallery. “After you, my lady.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Too right, after me,” she said. “Who’s the princess around here?”

The palace that Gabriel led her through looked very different now. The rooms and hallways were dark and silent and lifeless. All the bright lights and the sound of happy voices were gone. There was a musty, sour smell in the air. The tapestries and paintings hung shrouded in deep, brooding shadows. A dark, gloomy sky stretched away beyond the dusty, cobwebbed windows. There were no stars.

They walked silently in a pool of flickering candlelight. The darkness opened grudgingly in front of them and closed bleakly at their backs.

Anita shivered. “Where did everyone go? It wasn’t like this when we arrived.”

“What you saw then was only an illusion,” Gabriel said. “I wished to show you the Royal Palace as you had known it.” There was deep sadness in his eyes. “Few now live in the palace, and none are merry.”

“Why’s that?” Anita asked.

“Time froze in Faerie when your father heard about the death of your mother, Queen Titania,” Gabriel said. “She died tragically, soon after your own vanishing.” He walked to the window and cracked it open. Cold air wafted in from the gloom. “It has been twilight here for five hundred years. The whole of Faerie shares in Oberon’s grief.” He looked at her, and now his eyes were shining. “It is my hope that the joy of your return will lift the King’s long despair.” He
smiled. “We may yet see a glorious sunrise. And then you will witness such sights, my lady, such marvelous sights!”

Anita smiled back. “That would be nice,” she said. “So the Queen is dead, is that what you said?”

“Indeed. Your mother drowned, my lady.”

“That’s sad,” Anita said. “But she wasn’t my mother. My mum can swim like a fish; she won medals for it when she was a girl. Breaststroke, butterfly, freestyle.” She looked at Gabriel. “You haven’t got a clue what I’m talking about, have you?”

“Your speech is sometimes strange to me, my lady,” Gabriel said.

“
My
speech?” Anita said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Gabriel inclined his head with a smile. They had come to a large arched door. He twisted the black handle and pushed it open, then stepped aside to allow Anita through.

She found herself in a long courtyard. Tall, dark, red-brick buildings crowded all around her. She could see square battlements, jet black against the sky. Ahead of them, an arched gateway led into darkness.

Gabriel guided her across the courtyard and through the gateway. It led to an open area of long lawns and cobbled paths. Now that she was away from the musty smell and the sad silence of the empty palace, Anita began to feel better. Walking beside Gabriel under the twilit sky, she felt a dreamy excitement wash over her. This was only a dream, and now
she was being taken to see the King of Faerie. How cool was that?

The lawn-flanked path sloped gently away from them. Anita heard the soft ripple of water and realized they were approaching a river. Away to her right stood the pale white towers of the bridge over which she and Gabriel had first come.

The river lay deep and wide and drowsy between the banks. Anita saw a jetty, a tongue of darkness that stretched out over the black water.

She turned to look at Gabriel. His eyes were glowing like moons. Behind him, the angled shapes of the palace were outlined against the horizon—turrets and towers, battlemented walls, great spires and steeples of stone, black against the perpetual evening of Faerie.

On the far bank of the river, wharves and jetties and low-roofed buildings bit into a forest of tall trees. No leaf stirred. No bird sang.

Anita became aware of a huge wooden barge moored at the far end of the jetty, lapped by the bloated belly of the silent river. A single lantern hung at its high prow, but the light it gave off was sickly and yellow. More torches lined the bows, but none were lit.

Gabriel stepped down into the barge. He held out a hand. Anita took it and climbed down next to him. She felt a thrill of amazement as she looked around. The wooden barge was covered all over with intricate carvings—stylized shapes of intertwined leaves and branches and flowers. An awning made of heavy dark
cloth shrouded the rear half of the barge. Figures of people and animals were woven into the material. She couldn’t make out the shapes very clearly in the flickering, greasy lantern light, but she thought she glimpsed a unicorn, and maybe even a winged lion.

“The King’s
here
?” Anita whispered.

Gabriel nodded. He drew aside a curtain of the dense material. Anita saw that candles were lit within. The light was dim and smoky.

“Here goes nothing.” Taking a deep breath, she ducked under the awning.

At the far end of the barge, deep in shadows, Anita saw a seated man. She caught her breath; the air thrilled in her lungs as though charged with electricity.

The King of Faerie was sitting on an ornately carved chair with a high arched back and padded leather arms. He was dressed in similar clothes to Gabriel, except that his doublet and hose were black, fur-trimmed, and lined with white satin. His doublet was embroidered with white threads and beaded with jewels.

His head rested against threadbare velvet cushions. His golden hair hung around a lean, care-lined face. Anita had seen that face before, just for a few moments, when she had first stepped onto the gallery above the Great Hall. It was the man she had seen on the throne, the man with the neat beard and mustache, with the sharp, angled cheekbones and the flashing blue eyes. Except now his expression was
filled with sadness and his eyes were hooded, as if he was lost in deep, heartbreaking memories.

“Your Grace.” Gabriel’s voice startled Anita. For a moment she had been totally lost in that sad, noble face.

The King looked up.

Anita felt a shiver of something between apprehension and delight as those bright eyes came to rest on her face. As she watched, the King’s eyes widened and a look of astonishment spread over his face.

“Hi there,” Anita said tentatively.

The King suddenly leaned forward, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. “It cannot be!” he murmured, his voice a low, rumbling growl. He rose from his chair and his face slowly transformed, at first with disbelief, and then with absolute bliss.

“Tania!”

“Well, not exactly—” Anita began, but she had no time to say anything else as the King surged up out of his throne and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him in a fierce, breathtaking embrace.

Anita stood stiffly in his arms, feeling embarrassed and awkward, her feet almost clear of the floor. His fur collar was right in her face, filling her nose and mouth.

“Uh, excuse me.” She gasped. “I can’t breathe!”

The arms relaxed and the King’s hands came up to cup her cheeks. She felt even more uncomfortable as he stared into her face with an expression of such absolute happiness that all she could do was hang
there and smile uncertainly up at him.

“My daughter!” he said, his voice amazed. “Tania. Dear heart. Are you truly here, or is this but an illusion?”

“It’s definitely me,” Anita said. “Sort of.”

“I must see you more clearly,” said the King. Anita allowed herself to be led out into the open. Again, he scrutinized her face with wide, ecstatic eyes. “It is you, indeed,” he said. “And you are as I remembered—the very image and reflection of your mother.”

Anita smiled at this. All her life people had commented on the fact that she looked nothing like her parents. Now she understood why—her real parents were Faeries! Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

Because you’ve never been in such a crazy dream before, that’s why!

Oberon stepped away from her, his face transformed with elation. He tilted his head back, his mouth opening to let out a shout of pure joy. He lifted his arms up to the sky, his voice ringing out like a peal of bells.

A sphere of light appeared in his cupped hands, and as Anita stared up in amazement, the light surged out from between his fingers, bright and piercing, flashing like sapphires, burning like blue flame.

As the echo of his voice rolled back from the walls and battlements, Oberon slowly spread his arms, and as he did so the brightness poured up from him in a fountain of brilliant blue fire. The column of light gushed upward, fanning out, spreading rapidly over
the dark sky. It lifted like a great wave, curling and breaking at its peak, scattering and cascading down from horizon to horizon, banishing the darkness, bathing the whole world in a glorious burst of daylight.

Anita staggered backward, lifting her arms to shield her eyes.

She heard a sound like laughter rising around her. Deep, rumbling laughter, as if mountains were laughing; high, keening laughter that was like the cry of seagulls; a silvery, shivering laughter as of running water; and a sibilant, gusty laughter like the wind in tall trees.

Her ears still ringing, she stared around. The dull gray twilight world had been transformed. The sun was riding high in a clear, blue sky. The river sparkled as it ran swiftly between its banks. Sunlight glinted on the red-brick walls of the palace. The forest was a field of glittering emerald leaves, rustling gently, filled with birdsong. The heat of the sun warmed her face and a warm breeze ruffled her hair.