The Lost Witch (15 page)

The princess motioned for Carole to kneel and slipped the dress over her head. The
material felt feathery light, yet warm and almost alive. Carole stood up to admire the garment,
noticing as she did so, that her own skirt had somehow dropped from her body. It lay on the
ground like a discarded skin.

She stepped out of the tattered garment and kicked it away, while marveling at the
shimmering material of the new gown. She spun around, feeling as if she weren't wearing a
thing, yet sensing a subtle strength to the dress.

"Yes." Princess Glistlefern nodded. "Your senses are correct. Threads of light have been
sung into the garment to provide a measure of protection. It can, in its own way, respond to your
needs."

Thornblower next approached, bringing a sparkling circlet. "Please bow, Carole of the
Sylphwood, to receive the Link of Recognition, a crown spun from the pollen of golden
night-blooms."

Carole bent to allow the princess to place the shiny crown onto her head, aware of a
tingle given off by the jewelry. She reached up to finger it, but touched only her own hair.

"It is no longer there," Princess Glistlefern said, "for the circlet becomes part of you the
moment it rests upon the brow. Did you not feel the warmth of its settling? Yet fear not. The
night-bloom remains for always, though it is perceptible only to those with eyes to see and ears
to hear. It sings its own song, unique in the cosmos. Henceforth, amongst The Fay you shall
always be recognized as an honored guest."

Lukie stepped up, holding a silver object. "And last I present you with the Link of Truth.
'Tis a wand fashioned by the gentle hands of an aged master." The princess slipped what looked
like a tiny whistle, strung on a delicate braid, around Carole's neck.

"Though the Pale One hath turned against us and there is little we can do to stop the vile
brew which boils up from her anger, this wand shall at least protect against spells from those kin
who have gone awry." The princess looked searchingly into Carole's eyes. "Its projective magic
works by way of the music of the spheres, but one needs proper schooling to claim that usage.
Perhaps in brighter days you will choose to return and play a few spells on the reed."

"I'll certainly do my utmost," Carole said, slipping the necklace securely under her new
dress. "I've never received anything half so beautiful as these treasures, and only hope I'll be
worthy of them and of your faith and trust in me."

"Three gifts made with love, in trust, and of truth. Wear them well and may they serve
you well. Now sit and dine with us, as a true sister of the Silvering Oak Faeries."

The princess offered Carole a cup, fashioned from a leaf whose edges seemed to have
been stitched together by spider's silk. Inside the vessel was a clear liquid. Everyone, attendants
and royalty alike, held aloft similar cups. They were looking at her, expectantly.

Carole brought the cup to her lips, seeing that the others did the same, and tentatively
sipped. The drink was thicker and sweeter than the lake water and as she swallowed, a delicious
warmth spread throughout her body. She licked her lips, and took a larger sip. "This is quite an
honor."

"The honor, dear one, is all ours, and we can but hope to live up to your example. I do
not believe there is one amongst us who would even boast to attempt what you shall strive to
accomplish."

Carole didn't quite like the sound of that last remark. Princess Glistlefern might mean
finding the connector, though she couldn't exactly remember when she'd told the faerie princess
about that...

She'd best ask just to be certain...right after she finished this very tasty drink.

What a shame that there wasn't more than just...
Oh, someone has already refilled
the cup. Now when did that happen? Oh, oh... there must be something a lot stronger than flower
nectar in here.

She carefully placed the cup on the ground and ate a few bites from the plate of food
that had mysteriously appeared on her lap. The food helped center her thoughts a little, though
none wanted to stay in her head long enough for her to get a good look. Finally, after a great deal
of effort, she said, "I'm having a hard time thinking straight."

The princess's voice floated into her mind.
That is the work of The Linking, my
child. Your very essence is stretching and joining with the Silvering Oaks, we Fay, and the
celestial spheres themselves. It is a very expansive feeling, but do not worry. When you drink of
the simmering broth, you shall again be master of your own mind. In the meantime, enjoy what
The Linking shall bring.

Carole listened to the sounds of merriment. The faerie voices seemed to chime together
like crystal bells. She discovered that she could see right through the revelers, as if their bodies
were indeed crystal. Not only that, but she could see strands of light merging with the faeries,
threads coming out of the sky, the ground, and even from herself.

Fascinating!

She followed one of the thicker threads as it snaked away into the forest. The oaks had
also become transparent, as if no longer made of wood but of frozen flame. A faint music came
from them, not as striking as the faeries' voices, but in its own way wonderfully
harmonious...

Except for one sour note.

That note was like a fingernail scraping across a blackboard. Carole rolled her head from
side-to-side, trying to shake off the unpleasant sound.

"There!" she said, when she spied the source. It was a spring of rusty black oil, bubbling
up and seeping over the forest floor. She turned away from the disgusting sight to listen instead
to the music of the lake, which was much more pleasant and even lower in pitch than the
forest.

Effervescent trails were skimming along the water's surface. "Water bugs?" She giggled.
Were they the singers or was it actually the water singing?

Farther off-shore was something else, a patch of mist. It was duller than the lake, but not
at all unpleasant. Now and again it flashed with brilliant color.

Carole sighed. She could have easily drifted off, if it weren't for that unpleasant grating,
coming from behind. What was it?

Oh yeah, that oily stuff.
Only the noise seemed a lot louder than before.
Looking down, she saw that the ground beneath her had somehow turned rusty black.

She leapt to her feet. The oily, rusty image faded, along with the more pleasant sounds
and sights. The faeries were in a flurry of activity. Attendants had gathered up the remnants of
the feast and were dumping everything into baskets. Princess Glistlefern and the other members
of her court, were already astride their dragonflies which now hovered skittishly over the ground,
straining against their harnesses.

"Carole of the Sylphwood, you must return from The Linking. Time is of the essence.
The Pale One hath turned, and her anger is spreading over the land. We must fly to the safety of
our court and you must be about your own heroic journey."

The large moon, which had traveled halfway across the sky, was now glowing an angry
cast of red. "But--but--" The meaning of the princess' words sank in. "But I'm lost! I don't know
how to continue. Can't I come with you for the night?"

"That is not possible, dear one. You are too large to be ferried by a dragon steed and we
could not provide a carriage in time. But be strong of heart, for I see the truth of your destiny
unfolding during this dark night. Take The Linking to heart. Draw upon the knowledge and
wisdom, which is now your right.

"The Crown of Light sits upon your brow and forevermore joins you to our land. The
wand's purity will guard against those who would seek to ensnare you, and your raiment shall
provide gentle comfort against the chills of travel. But remember, you alone are the true guardian
of your fate.

"Be brave Carole of the Sylphwood, Multitasker, and Friend of the Silvering Oak Faerie.
Now we, wrapped in our own embarrassment, must flee our plagued land." The princess dipped
her head towards Carole and, taking hold of the reins of her dragonfly, whistled lightly. The
creature shot into the sky and sped across the lake.

Carole watched until they were mere specks bobbing above the horizon. Then looking
around, she saw that in their rush the attendants had left behind the cauldron of soup still
simmering overtop the fire, and beside it a small stack of bowls.

She went over to the fire. The broth smelled delicious. She scooped up a bowlful and
sipped, and instantly felt refreshed and alert.

The voices reached her moments later. They came from the forest, harsh and
unpleasant.

Two creatures shambled into the open. The first stood over six feet high and was nearly
as wide, with olive colored skin so gnarled and twisted that it resembled tree roots more than
flesh. He even walked woodenly, lurching forward with stiff, ungainly steps.

Yet it was the second whose appearance was most disturbing. She was small, not even
as tall as Carole, and had a sly look about her. Although obviously related to the faeries in some
fashion, she was much stockier of build, had no wings, and wore a scowl on her face that left no
doubt as to her mood.

The creatures were squabbling with each other and didn't appear to have noticed Carole.
She began to back away.

"Hold off, you brute," the small creature said. We don't want to scare off our new
neighbor. And look." She sneered at the cauldron. "A meal has been left for us. Very kind of our
cousins to be thinking of their poorer relations in times such as these.

She stared fixedly at Carole. "But not so kind of them to abandon you to the Red One's
wildness. I see by your garb that you've recently been with the fair folk, yet you've an appearance
less of them and more of us, eh?" The creature slapped the leg of her companion, prompting a
vacant smile from him.

Though she hobbled around like an elderly crone, there was an alertness to her eyes that
Carole didn't trust. "Not abandoned. I stayed behind to meet some of the other folk of this
realm."

"Stranger are you? Stranger to our realm?"

"Stranger to these parts."

"And are we a fit-enough looking couple to meet and perhaps share a meal with?"

Carole continued to inch away. "Certainly, help yourself. There are some bowls over
there. Though it might be more pleasant if I knew your names."

"Pleasantries is it that you want? Well, pleasantries we shall have. I am called Spittle.
Spittle, the cave sprite." She bowed low while motioning to her companion.

With greater speed than Carole could have believed possible, the root creature rushed
forward and clamped down on her wrist with a vice-like fist.

"Hey, Let go!" Carole pulled at her arm and clawed the creature's hand. "What are you
doing? Let me go!" For all the effect it was having, she might just as well have been scratching
rock.

"What are we doing?" Spittle straightened up and abandoned any hint of feebleness.
"Why you have been caught trespassing in our wood and now must pay a tax to us. Isn't that
right, Thunk?"

The creature holding Carole's arm, bobbed his head in cheerful agreement.

"But I haven't any money. Besides, this is the faeries' wood. Let go, you're hurting!"
Carole punched her captor's arm and managed only to bruise her fist.

"'Tis what they like others to believe, scoundrels that they be. Still a debt is a debt and
someone's got to pay." The sprite rubbed her hands together. "If you've nothing to pay you shall
have to work it off. Thunk, bring her here!"

Spittle pawed Carole's face. "And just in case you get any ideas of skipping off..."

Spittle began prancing about, mumbling under her breath and waving her hands as if she
were pulling at unseen strings. The air thickened and sounds became muffled. Carole's fear
jumped to full blown panic.

She again lashed out at Thunk. Her arm floated up at a snail's pace. She kicked at him.
Her foot moved even slower. "Let me go!" she screamed. Barely a strangled croak escaped her
lips.

She felt a tickle at the base of her throat. She tried to scratch, but her hand wouldn't
move. "Arrrgh!" She shook with fear and frustration.

The tickle became an itch. She willed her hand to move. The itch began to sting. Tears
sprang to her eyes. The sting began to burn, then to sear. Tears ran freely down her cheeks.
Finally her fingers reached a small, hot lump atop her breast bone.
The Link of
Protection!

Carole grasped at the tiny wand, triggering a shock so intense that her ears popped.
Surrounding sounds and sensations returned to normal. Apparently unaware, Spittle continued to
chant.

"Let her go, Thunk." Spittle ordered a moment later. "That'll hold her 'til we decide
what's to be done." And then she said to Carole, "Not to worry, dearie. Just a little something to
keep you from wandering. You'll be fine so long as you don't move too quick.

"Thunk here surprised you a bit too, didn't he?" Spittle cackled. "Root trolls is good for
that, ambush being their specialty. Blend in with the trees and nab you quick as a flash."

The sprite spat on the troll's shin. "So, what do you think of that broth our cousins left
behind?"

Thunk smiled stupidly.

"Dish out some helpings, girl. Do a good enough job and maybe we won't add you to
it."

Carole moved as slowly as possible. She dished out two bowls of soup, setting one on
the ground for Thunk and holding the other out for Spittle. The sprite snatched the bowl, and
greedily slurped at the broth, letting as much run down her chin as into her mouth.

Carole was fairly certain that if she got a surprise start, she'd be able to gain a little
distance before the creatures reacted, but then what? The lake was probably her best choice. She
had never tried to glide over water, but she could definitely swim. The question was, could her
captors?