The Immortal Realm (20 page)

Connor turned and smiled bleakly at Tania. “You were always getting me into trouble even when we were kids,” he said, but the crack in his voice betrayed his emotions. “I just wish I'd had time to say good-bye to my folks.”

Tania swallowed hard. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered.

“Don't be,” he said. “My choice, remember?”

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she could think of nothing more to say.

 

Tania sat on a narrow window bench in the Throne Room. The plague came from
this
world! Her Mortal mother and father had been condemned and sent out of Faerie for something that had nothing to do with
them—and now she would never see them again. And there was Connor, too. She'd persuaded him to come here to help, and now he was trapped in Faerie for the rest of his life.

But
had
it been pointless to bring him here?

We need him to open the Isenmort door,
she thought.
Sometimes it's as if there's some kind of mind at work behind everything that happens.

She looked toward the King. Hopie and Sancha were here, persuaded temporarily to leave Cerulean Hall now that the truth about the disease was known.

When they had arrived, Hopie had put her arms around Tania and kissed her. “I am sorry,” she had said wearily. “I was too swift to seek scapegoats. I am glad Master Clive was not to blame.”

Sancha had taken her hand. “You should not have gone to the Mortal World without telling us,” she said. “We would have aided you.”

“I didn't want you getting into trouble,” Tania had told her.

Now the two sisters were by the throne with their mother. Hopie held a wooden bowl and was offering a spoon to the King's lips. Oberon was slumped in the throne, now seeming more exhausted than ever. The Queen held his hands, giving him what support and comfort she could.

But for how much longer?
Tania wondered. There had to be a breaking point—even for someone as powerful as her Faerie father—and what would happen
to all the people he was protecting when his strength finally ran out?

Tania turned away and gazed from the high window. She saw that several horsemen were leaving the palace, followed by a line of foot travelers. The small group was wending its way along the road that led down toward the harbor of Rhyehaven. She was in a tower high above the departing men, but she knew who they were. Lord Aldritch was on the lead horse, Edric riding at his shoulder and Aldritch's small retinue following close behind—all dressed in black.

Walking along after the horsemen was Hollin the Healer, his yellow robes easy to make out even from that distance, trailed by his green-clad acolytes. As Tania watched, Hollin turned sharply—as though sensing her eyes upon him. His head tilted toward the tower. She could not make out the details of his face, but she felt such malice coming from him that she drew back from the window, her heart thudding in her chest.

She rested her forehead against cool stone for a few moments, letting the palpitations and the unease subside. When she looked down again, the troop was farther away, and Hollin was no longer looking at her.

Lord Aldritch was making good on his threat. He was leaving the palace and leading his people to the harbor to take the ship and return to his Earldom. And he was taking Edric with him.

“Good-bye, my love,” Tania whispered, her breath misting the windowpane. She looked away again, unable to bear the sight of Edric riding away from her—perhaps forever.

She closed her eyes, lifting her hands to her burning face.

“Tania? Why are you crying? You should be pleased that it wasn't your dad who brought the infection here.”

Tania wiped a sleeve across her cheeks and looked up at Connor. “I am,” she said. “But look what I've done to
you
!”

“I'm pretty adaptable,” he said. “And who needs electricity, anyway?” He gave a fake smile. “Actually, it doesn't seem real at the moment. When the truth hits me, I'll probably want to strangle you. Will that be okay?”

“That'll be fine,” Tania said. “I deserve it.”

Rathina approached. “You will be made most welcome in our Realm, Master Connor,” she said. “Many are the delights that Faerie can offer.” She turned to Tania. “And I am glad for you, that your Mortal father did not do this harm to us. But I dread this news with all my heart.” She grimaced. “If not from the Mortal World, then how has this thing come to Faerie? And how are we to defeat it?”

“Not with antibiotics, that's for sure,” said Connor.

And if Eden is right and all of Faerie is infected, how will the King manage to protect everyone? And if only
some
can be saved, how is he going to choose?

The door to the Throne Room opened and Eden glided in. Tania noticed that she was carrying Connor's rubber flashlight in one hand and a leather satchel in the other.

Tania, Connor, and Rathina walked back to the throne.

Hopie and Sancha stood up as Eden approached the King.

Eden handed the flashlight to Connor. “I believe this Mortal tool will aid you as much where we are going as any light that I might conjure,” she said.

“We're going somewhere dark, then?” said Connor.

“Aye, Mortal, that we are,” said Rathina. “Dark and deep, from what I have heard of Caer Regnar Naal!”

Eden gave the satchel to Rathina. “In here is food and water,” she said. “I know not how long we may need to stay in the Caer, and fresh provisions may be hard to come by.”

“A wise precaution,” said Rathina, hefting the bag onto her shoulder.

“All is now in readiness,” said Eden. “The enchantments are cast. We must depart.” She bowed to her father and mother. “With your leave I will remain in Regnar Naal with the others and see that no harm comes to them in that forsaken place.”

“No, daughter,” said Titania. “That you cannot do.”

Tania looked sharply at her Faerie mother.

“The King would have you bring succor to our
people,” Titania explained to Eden. “Once you have taken Tania and Rathina and the Mortal boy to the Caer, you must depart. We would have you use your powers to quarter the Realm as swift as you may, seeking out all the sick that you can find and swaddling them in the Gildensleep.”

“Mother, I do not have such power as this would need,” said Eden.

“The King and I will loan you ours,” said Titania. “The strain will be great, but we cannot abandon our people.”

“And I will fortify the King and Queen with such strengthening elixirs as I can brew,” added Hopie. “Sancha will aid me.”

“Indeed, I will,” said Sancha.

“One more thing must you know before you depart,” came Oberon's weak, distant voice. “The Helan Archaia is a place engorged with a knowledge of which it is forbidden to speak within the Realm of Faerie. Tread warily and with a wise fearfulness. Seek only that to which the dream has led you. And do not take anything from the Hall of Archives, for evil will come to you if you do so.”

“I understand,” said Tania. “We'll be careful, and I promise we won't take anything away.”

“Then my blessings upon you.”

Titania held her arm out to Eden. “Come, take my hand, daughter.”

Eden took hold of the Queen's hand. For a moment nothing seemed to happen, but then Tania was aware
of a faint golden light that surrounded all three: the King, his Queen, and their eldest daughter. And as she watched, the gold faded a little from the King and Queen and grew stronger around Eden, till she glowed like a sun.

Then the hands of Eden and her mother slipped apart and the glow faded.

The change in the King and Queen was alarming. As weary as they had both seemed before, now their faces were ash white, their bodies shrunken and eyes dull.

Hopie knelt by the throne, looking anxiously into her father's face while Sancha put an arm protectively around the Queen.

“Go…now…” breathed the King, his voice a distant whisper. “Save the people of Faerie….”

Eden turned to Tania and the others, and the golden light was still visible in her eyes. She raised her arms above her head, her hands palm to palm, her fingers pointing upward, her eyes half closed so that the golden light seeped out over her cheeks. She began to speak in a silky language, words that Tania did not understand. She brought her arms circling down, her fingertips leaving an arcing trail of white fire.

Her hands came together low on her body, completing the ring of flame. It grew, blossoming out and swelling until it became a globe of white flames that entirely surrounded her.

Her voice rang out from within the fiery globe.

“Come,” she called. “Come to me!”

Rathina was the first to step into the ball of fire. Connor didn't move. He was staring at the blazing sphere with his mouth half open and white flames reflecting in his eyes.

“Come on,” said Tania, taking his hand. “Let's do it together.”

Side-by-side they walked into the cool, flickering dance of Eden's mystical flames.

The orb of white fire dwindled until it was no more than a circle of flickering light in the grass.

Tania blinked the dazzle out of her eyes and saw that Eden had brought them to a land of flat pastures, lush meadows, and tall, dark forests. A hill rose before them, tree-mantled and somber under the clear blue Faerie sky. Close by a small herd of wild horses stood watching them. There was no birdsong and no breeze and the shadows under the trees seemed to brood in sullen silence.

“Behold Caer Regnar Naal,” said Eden.

“Wow…” breathed Connor. “I'm like…
Wow
. That side step thing you do is amazing enough, but your sister's horse of air is the coolest yet.” He turned to Eden. “How do you do that?” he asked.

“I request the aid of the spirits of fire and air,” Eden replied.

“Oh. Right. I see….”

“Where's the castle?” asked Tania. She had looked
all around, and unless trees hid the Caer, she couldn't quite work out where it might be.

Eden pointed toward the hill. “See yonder gray stone set in the hillside?” she said. “That is the entrance to the Caer.”

Tania could see the long gray slab of stone leaning deep into the hillside in a narrow area clear of the thick cloaking trees. “You mean it's actually
in
the hill?” she said. “How does that work?”

“Knock thrice upon the stone and you will see,” said Eden. “I must depart now and do what I can to bring ease and comfort to the belabored people of Faerie. But these gifts shall I bestow on you ere I go.” She turned to face the three of them. She reached out a forefinger and touched the base of each of their throats in turn. Connor flinched but only a little.

“I have gifted you the Arossa Charm,” Eden said. She pointed to the wild horses. “When your work here is done, speak gently to them and they will do your bidding.”

“That is a fine gift,” said Rathina. “I had given no thought to how we might return hence. Wild horses, ho! 'Tis better by far than to foot-slog it down all the long miles of Faerie.”

Eden looked at Tania. “And to you I give this.” She took Tania's head between her hands and tilted it down, planting a kiss on Tania's forehead before releasing her. “It is the Kiss of Seeking. It will help to guide you to your quarry.”

“Thank you,” said Tania.

“And now,” said Eden, stepping away from them, “I wish you good fortune in your quest. Farewell. Indeed, fare you
very
well!” She lifted her arms and spoke again those strange, sibilant words. She swung her arms down and the globe of fire appeared. For a moment Tania saw Eden standing in a ball of white flame, then there was a crack like thunder, and the globe went searing through the trees, trailing a ribbon of white fire as it arced across the sky and vanished.

Connor gaped.

Rathina looked at him. “Wow?” she suggested.

He nodded, closing his mouth.

“Okay, come on,” said Tania, setting off toward the long hill. “Let's get busy.” She looked at Rathina. “Who lives here?” she asked.

“Did you not know?” Rathina replied. “None live in Caer Regnar Naal. It has been deserted now for many thousands of years.”

“Why's that?” asked Tania.

“I never knew until today,” said Rathina. “But it is easy now to understand why this place is shunned. At the heart of the citadel stands a door of purest Isenmort, sister. None of Faerie born could long bear to be close to such an abomination.” She smiled. “None but the sixth daughter of Oberon and Titania.”

“So who made the Isenmort Portal?” asked Tania. “And why?”

“I do not know,” said Rathina.

“Well,
why
is easy, surely?” said Connor. “It was done to make sure no one could get at the archives.”
His eyes gleamed as he looked at Tania. “There must be secrets in there that no one was ever meant to know. Exciting, huh? Maybe we're about to find the formula for Immortality.”

“Maybe,” Tania said dubiously. She wasn't convinced that the Immortality of the Faerie folk was something that could be pinned down quite that easily.

As they came closer to the hill, Tania became aware of a heaviness all about her, as though the air was pressing in on her. The darkness under the trees was impenetrable—as if the gloom was covering something, or as if something was hiding itself in the gloom.

“This place has a strange mood,” Rathina said. “Methinks it is the poison of the Isenmort Portal pervading the very ground beneath our feet.”

“I don't feel anything,” said Connor. “It's quiet, though, isn't it? No birds. Nothing. And it's getting hot; have you noticed that?”

“The sun stands at the zenith of the sky,” said Rathina. “See how the heat rises from yon stone doorway. What was it Eden told us to do?”

“Knock three times,” Tania said.

Up close the slab of gray stone was far bigger than she had expected. It lay impressed in the hillside, ten feet across and twice that high.

“It must weigh forty tons or more,” Connor said, kicking a corner. “It doesn't look natural, though. How did they ever get it here?” He looked at Tania. “I'm assuming they don't have much in the way of machinery.”

Tania shook her head. “No, not much.” Rathina
was right: She could see the heat shimmering off the stone, quivering in the air and distorting the shapes of the trees farther up the hill.

She stooped and picked up a stone. As she leaned over the gray slab, the heat beat into her face. She pounded the stone three times on the slab then stepped back.

Nothing happened.

“Maybe it's broken?” suggested Connor.

“Wait!” said Rathina.

Slowly at first, so slowly that it was hardly perceptible, the massive slab began to rise from the ground, pivoting on one side like a vast door. Cool air seeped out of the widening black gap.

The stone lifted itself, two feet thick, ragged and rough-hewn. Blackness yawned, cold and fathomless.

“Time for your flashlight, I think,” Tania said to Connor. “I don't imagine there'll be any lights in there.”

Connor moved forward to the very lip of darkness. He switched on the flashlight. The beam shone onto a flight of black stone steps that plunged away into cavernous depths. He looked uneasily at Tania. “Ladies first,” he said.

“Cute,” she said, stepping over the grassy threshold. “Very cute.” Cold air crept around her ankles as she began to descend.

Connor followed close behind, shining the light onto the steps, but Tania's own shadow went racing ahead into the black gulf, swallowed up in the cool
darkness. She could hear Rathina whistling softly between her teeth.

I remember that! She does it when she's scared, to make out that everything's okay.

Somehow that tiny flash of memory warmed Tania and lifted her heart.

She came to a black arch at the foot of the stairs. Connor was at her side shining his flashlight into the darkness. Black stone glinted, reflecting the light. A cobbled roadway stretched away.

Rathina's tuneless whistling was close by Tania's ear.

Tania stepped through the arch.

She gazed around herself in surprise. The subterranean darkness seemed far less intense now—only as dark perhaps as a starless night—and she could see buildings all around her. They were uniformly black, made from a smooth stone that shone with a dusky bloom. They appeared to be ordinary houses and cottages with steep-sloping, tiled roofs and tall chimneys and mullioned windows, leading away up either side of a twisty, cobbled street. Here and there she saw squat turrets or towers attached to the buildings. Elsewhere there were sunken windows behind black bars, and curved flights of stone steps leading to raised doorways. There were deep-set doors under stone lintels. Black ivy climbed the walls and black roses overhung the windows. Everything black. It was as if a village had been dipped in oil and then left wet and shining under a night sky.

Tania looked up, expecting to see the roof of this great cavern—but all she saw was a black vault so featureless that, for all Tania could tell, it might be hanging a few feet above her head or it might be a thousand miles away—or not there at all.

It was not cold in the village, but the silence was eerie, and for some reason Tania was reminded of the sinister ruins she had flown above in her dream.

“Such a sad place,” murmured Rathina. “They say that in ancient times there was light and laughter and love in Caer Regnar Naal. But I do not know who lived here nor what happened to them.” She began softly to sing.

Connor walked across the street and gingerly touched a rose head. He turned to look at Tania. “It feels real,” he said. “But it can't be, can it? Down here? With no light or anything?”

“When are you going to get that this world runs on magic, Connor?” Tania asked. “Rathina? Do you have any idea where the Hall of Archives might be?”

“Nay, sister,” said Rathina. “But it should not be hard to find. Do you not yet sense the presence of the Isenmort Portal?”

“No, not really.”

“You shall, Tania. As we grow closer, you will feel it.”

They walked together along the street. Even though there was enough dim light for them to see by, Connor still turned the beam of his flashlight this way and that to pick out the odd details of the crooked old houses.

They came to a wide paved square. A black fountain stood in the middle, its deep basin long dry. Connor lifted the beam of light onto the statue that rose from its central plinth.

Tania gasped as the fierce white light picked out the black shape of a giant owl caught wide-winged as it surged forward from a branch, every feather carved with pinpoint detail, its predatory eyes so sharp and bright that they almost seemed to be alive.

“Which way now?” asked Connor, roving the beam of light along the several streets that led from the square.

“Close your eyes, Tania,” said Rathina. “Turn about; feel for the scorching of Isenmort on your mind.”

Tania did as her sister suggested.

“There's nothing,” she said. “It all feels—Oh! Wait!” She opened her eyes. A sensation had touched her—like the shadowy intimation of a headache behind her eyes. She pointed. “That way.”

It was a street as strange and as ordinary as any other in the underground village, but at the far end a large square edifice loomed above the rooftops. As they approached, Tania saw that it was a tower, its
blunt bulk windowless and unadorned. It was built of stone, but it was not smooth and black. Its face was rough and sharp-edged and uneven.

It was a tower made of flint, and in the center of its facing wall stood a huge door of gray iron.

Large bolts of iron studded the door, and to one side hung a braided hoop of iron attached to a massive iron lock.

As she came closer, Tania felt the dull pressure growing behind her eyes and now she could see that the face of the iron door was etched all over with intricate and unpleasant designs. In the light of Connor's flashlight beam the unsettling shapes of centipedes and squids and spiders and crabs and worms writhed and crawled with sinister intent over the cold gray iron.

“Horrible,” muttered Rathina, shrinking away. “Most horrible!”

“I'll say,” said Connor. “What total sicko came up with all this?”

“Like you said,” murmured Tania, “it was put here to keep people out.” She screwed up her eyes against the discomfort that was bearing down on her from the door. “Can you get it open?”

Connor looked at Rathina. “How about it?”

Rathina grimaced but nodded. She put down the leather satchel and stepped up to the door. She gripped the iron hoop with both hands and wrenched at it.

“'Tis well closed!” she said puffing. “Come, Master Connor, lend your weight to our cause!”

Connor handed Tania the rubber flashlight, and
together he and Rathina took a double-handed grip on the hoop.

“Three—two—go!” said Connor.

They fought together with the hoop, and gradually inch by slow inch it began to turn with a piercing noise that set Tania's teeth on edge.

As they managed to get the hoop to a half turn, there was a low clanking sound from deep within the door.

“The lock is free!” shouted Rathina. “Pull now, Master Connor. Pull with all your might!”

They dug their heels in and hauled back on the door—and with the terrible screeching of metal grazing stone it began to open.

Tania stepped back as the door grated toward her, the ancient iron shuddering and grinding over the threshold as it was slowly forced open.

“Ha! A hard-won struggle,” said Rathina, gasping as the door finally clanked back on its hinges. She picked up the satchel and slapped Connor on the back. “'Twas well done, Master Connor! You have muscle and sinew after all, so it would seem.”

“Thanks,” said Connor. “Same to you. Tania? Are you okay to go inside, do you think?”

Tania nodded. Now that the iron door had been shifted, she was able to walk into the tower without too much discomfort.

She found herself in an open square vestibule. She traced the flashlight beam over a series of wooden doors that lined the four walls. A heavy wooden
staircase went zigzagging up to a succession of galleries that jutted out all the way to the high roof of the tower.

Rathina strode across the floor and opened one of the doors. Tania shone the light inside. The room was large and filled with tables and lecterns and bookcases—and over every surface teemed a bewildering profusion of scrolls and books and parchments. Tomes and papers clogged every shelf, and even more spilled onto the floor.