Edgar’s Tale

By Akril

Prologue:

The young man sat on the fine, nearly white sand of the small island. Stroking back his thick brown hair, which burned gold in the light of the rising sun, his eyes met the dark black pearls of a white swan’s. The feathers that wrapped around its body, the delicate fold of its wings was beyond perfection, but it was the eyes that the youth couldn’t turn away from. They reminded him too much of the gentle, blue eyes of the girl who had left him many days ago. To reunite with her family, the young man recalled. They needed her. I’d never know what that meant. I can see why…

His thoughts were drifting back to her eyes again. In a strange way, they reminded him of lightning…blue lightning, shrouded by clouds after a storm. And her name…Rosella. It was no wonder that he had given her the moist, fiery red-hued rose with the key to her freedom tied to it. Many roses climbed the walls of the crystal palace several yards behind him, yet every one seemed to remind him of her kindness…how she told him she liked him…Her bravery…how she had faced his mother…his mother, Lolotte, once the eternal enemy of the fairy whose beach he rested upon!…and her beauty…this was farther from his heart, but still, everything about her, within and outside seemed beautiful. The first beautiful human he had seen in his eighteen years…true, the fairy, Genesta, surpassed any mortal’s beauty, but in many ways, the human girl seemed even fairer.

His eyes traveled from the swan’s head to his own rumpled, but colorful tunic, trousers and boots, and even more importantly, his sun splashed flesh. Flesh. Why do they call it that, flesh is what’s inside, not outside. At least what’s inside me is still the same.

It was a body foreign to him, and yet, it felt strangely familiar. The green, hunchbacked body he had occupied for nearly all his life now seemed to be something he was glad to leave behind.

The short, light brown hair he had owned several months ago had now grown thicker and longer, creating a wild, silken mane reaching halfway down his back. Perhaps it was Rosella’s beautiful golden crowning glory that gave him the idea of letting it grow out while he lived here. Genesta’s attendant fairies often offered to trim his hair, but he always declined. He also declined to wear any of the silk robes the fairies offered him (even though he was amazed at their generosity), preferring only the ordinary clothes that made him resemble a peasant. Again, just like Rosella. Edgar sighed in depression.

Raising his head again, he saw the sun bursting into a blinding arabesque over the rim of a bluish cloud. He leaned back further and kneaded his toes in the soft Tamirian sand, thinking softly.

Suddenly the swan beside him raised its head and took off with an explosion of sand and feathers spraying into the youth’s eyes. He squinted in distaste and rose to his feet, his cape catching the dawn breezes. At first, it seemed to be a dragon on the horizon. A dragon, like the demons and monsters his mother, Lolotte, always told him about. Then he saw the neck, the long, tapering head, like that of a great sea serpent.

Then he realized, with surprise and embarrassment, that it was a bird just like the one who had just sprayed sand into his eyes. He was ready to force out a laugh, since laughter was something he had rarely experienced during his life, but then he realized that the swan had a wingspan comparable to the height of a castle tower, with a head larger than his own. The youth stepped back, then squinted and looked closer at the approaching beast. It wasn’t real. It seemed to be made of wood or canvas, yet it soared like a hawk of the Impossible Mountains. What was it?

The boy noticed a cavity in the swan’s back, one with a seat within it…a seat for people to ride safely on…like the two strange people that were sitting on it. The man had hair that seemed to be dyed with the tongues of flames, and his unmarked skin was like old leather, smooth as a lake’s surface. He was wrapped in a white toga rimmed with a lavender strip, a style of clothing unfamiliar to the young man, who still watched him as well as his companion.

The one beside him was a young woman, with sharp black hair bound atop her delicate head. She had a body like a praying mantis, fragile and tiny. In fact, even her skin color matched the insect’s, a light, glowing green like the first leaf of a new seedling pushing through the earth.

The swan with its two riders floated down and skimmed across the ocean, undisturbed by the rolling tides. The huge bird gently, almost coyly slid ashore onto the gentle, glistening sands. The woman peered out, around the swan’s large neck, and saw the person who had been watching them so intently. She looked ready to laugh or cry, he could not tell which. Then she practically sprang out of the boat, just like the insect she curiously resembled, and rushed up to the young man, trapping him in the grasp of her arms as she hugged him with the strength of an infant giant.

“Edgar! Son! You’re alive!”

Chapter 1:

It all came too suddenly for him to comprehend. It was a feeling not unlike having his head punched through a stone wall. Time seemed to slow as these new people who called him “son” poured out the history of his kidnapping, their seemingly eternal sorrow, and finally, his reunion with them, Oberon and Titania, the King and Queen of the Fairies! Of all people to experience miracles, Edgar felt that he was either a lucky one or someone worthy of having his dreams granted.

His eyes still wide from shock and amazement, Edgar gingerly stepped into the horse-less sky chariot, settling down between his new parents, and before he could say his first word, the swan had risen above the sea, above the towers of Genesta’s crystal castle, and finally, above the clouds he had always wished he could visit, on his way to his true home.

Questions. Questions were tossed back and forth and occasionally over the side of the chariot, dropping the subject. Edgar learned how he was the first Etherian child born in over a century, and how all the fairies had come to the main isle just to see his peaceful, sleeping face. How an uninvited guest had poisoned the great decanter of fresh nectar, which was tasted by nearly all of the unknowing guests. Many fairies fell gravely ill, some even died. Those that didn’t die fell into a long-lasting sleep, including Oberon and his bride. It was during this time that Edgar was taken from his home, taken to serve the wicked creature who left his parents crying over his empty cradle, Lolotte, who had been defeated by the same girl whom Edgar loved. He was close to tears himself by the time his parents had finished telling him everything they knew, and by this time, they had also reached the periphery of the floating isles of Etheria.

It was difficult to find anything to compare them to. Flowering, green paradises atop elliptical spires of deep lavender stone. Vines ran to and from some of the smaller ones, as if they had been closer together some time ago. The trees and shrubs curled, contorted and stretched into fantastic, exotic shapes that simply couldn’t be called twisted or gnarled. Trees with trunks the hue of lilacs, bushes that looked like blue bursting fountains frozen in place, and gentle, soft green moss that dotted the islands’ leeward sides and tops.

Shimmering, tiny clusters of pale magenta hued fruits grew beneath stone edges, and Edgar was fascinated with them as their swan drifted through the mists. Titania informed him that the fruits were ambrosia, the food of the gods (as Edgar already knew from the books on mythology Lolotte had allowed him to read).

Then, a swarm of tiny, bird-like creatures flashed past the chariot’s bow. Edgar, fearing that it might be a swarm of giant insects, was on his feet in an instant. In the same instant, the creatures spontaneously flew towards him as one, swirling around his body and darting near his face. There was an eerie, yet beautiful music circling him as well, and it seemed to be coming from the creatures.

“They’re dragonettes,” explained his mother, smiling gently. “I daresay they want to welcome you home.”

Now Edgar could see the creatures clearly: their bodies like a horse of the waters – the Hippocampus, he recalled – with a pair of delicate, transparent wings which beat too quickly for his eyes to make out, but Edgar already could see these creatures were not of the world he had left behind. And they were singing – like the tropical songbirds of Genesta’s isle – a sound Edgar had never heard before, even in his dreams.

Numbly, he slowly raised a hand, with the fingers extended. One of the dragonettes stopped its rapid flight, hovered before the hand for a moment, then curled its spiraling tail around Edgar’s forefinger and ceased its fluttering of its wings, gazing at him curiously, whistling its own melody, which stood out among that of the others.

Edgar wasn’t sure how to react. He had never seen such a beautiful little animal, probably because he was so deformed and ugly during most of his life, and now one came right to him, as if he were a brother, or even a parent.

Smiling broadly, Edgar gently wiggled his finger, and after a moment’s hesitation, the dragonette uncurled its tail and zipped away to join the others in its flock, ending its song with a brief transition into the others’ chorus. Slowly, Edgar re-seated himself between his parents. The dragonettes slowly dispersed and floated away, still as one unit.

“They’re beautiful,” Edgar said, with a voice like an amazed child.

“They are indeed,” replied Oberon. “Mortals rarely see the dragonettes, and more often or not, it’s in their dreams. They are the guardians of the sacred food and drink of the gods. We respect them and they bring us happiness.”

Edgar sighed in response. He turned his head to each side occasionally, trying to see as much as he could of this amazing Etheria. It wasn’t long before the main islands began appearing out of the clouds. Islands with castles almost growing from them, bridges running from island to island, from turret to tower. It was a kingdom just like the ones described in the books Edgar read so often as a boy, only better. This place was real. He had heard the dragonettes’ song, he had touched the breath of heaven. What more could happen on this day of days?

The answer came out of the largest of the clouds, looming like a dragon looking skyward: a glittering, intricate, widespread palace built upon an island so large, there probably had to be magic at work holding it up. As the swan drew closer, Edgar noticed many small things darted around the walls and buttresses, circled the towers or sat on the edges of roofs. They were fairies. Edgar didn’t need to ask his parents what they were. Some winged, some wingless, some human-like, others stooped, slit-eyed and bumpy, like goblins or demons. Yet they all seemed benevolent, here in this land in the sky, each doing what he or she was cut out to do, coloring the flowers, giving the birds traveling tips, or checking the islands’ drift patterns. It all seemed to tie together.

All except for Edgar.

Chapter 2:

The world seemed to spin around him as he was escorted out of the floating swan and into a crowded courtyard, filled with fairies, sprites and many other magical creatures. Dragonettes flitted about above the strange, high walls, which Edgar thought seemed warm to the touch, as if it were alive. Many living things grew within the walls, the exotic, mystical flora, the trees, shrubs and grasses. There were also many beautiful marble statues and ornaments throughout the widespread gardens.

Oberon raised his heavy staff into the air and the chaos gradually subsided. He raised his leathery hand and spoke:

“People of Etheria and Eldritch! What we were told was true! Edgar, our only son and the prince of this realm has finally been found! Lolotte has been defeated, and happiness has returned with our boy!”

The ecstatic crowds cheered and yelled with delight, even the knobby demons and boggles. Before the noise had died down, a young, wingless fairy with white hair and skin zigzagged through the crowds and stopped before Edgar and his parents. She examined Edgar, looking him over with an inquisitive manner. Raising her small head, she said to Titania:

“He is the one. I’d know those eyes anywhere. Glad I am that he is alive and here.”

Edgar suddenly realized that the fairy’s skin wasn’t white, but a very pale blue, covered for the most part by a small green skirt tied tightly around her waist with a thick vine. She looked older up close, but was still beautiful. She had small, pointed ears which flicked back and forth occasionally as she stared into Edgar’s eyes and at his parents’ as well.

“This is Elfreda,” explained Titania, “Our most trusted subject. She was the first one who discovered your disappearance and told us while we were still under the poison’s influence. She was to be your nanny before Lolotte took you. Elfreda is very trustworthy, and she has helped us greatly in our time without you.”

Elfreda grinned broadly, stepping back from Edgar on her tiptoes. “A celebration we must have! A celebration to honor the return of our prince!”

The crowd behind her whooped and cheered in agreement. Titania nodded slightly to Elfreda.

“You have our permission to have a celebration. I would think a ball would be appropriate for our young prince.”

“Yes, yes, a ball it shall be, my lady! I shall plan it myself! Will you have any requests, my lady?”

Titania put her hand on Edgar’s shoulder and gave him a brief side-glance. “I think Edgar would like to see more of his homeland before the festivities begin. Wouldn’t you, Edgar?”

“Yes, mother. I would like that a lot.”

“All right,” said Elfreda decisively. “Let the young prince see the wonders of Etheria and Eldritch! Take your time. I promise everything will be ready ere you return, your highnesses.”

“I trust you, Elfreda,” said Titania. “Thank you for making Edgar’s first day here a special one. Come, son. We’ll go through the gardens. This way.”

Elfreda waved one twig-like arm as many other fairies did the same. “Good-bye, good majesties! Make this celebration a big one, I will!”

As Oberon and Titania led their son out of the crowded courtyard, Edgar tried to get a closer look at the creatures they were passing. Some resembled humans with oddly toned skin, others small butterflies or bat-winged beings. Even the demons, though ugly and deformed, seemed handsome as they removed their small woolen caps at Edgar’s passing and bowing until their long noses nearly touched the ground. They were all amazing people, seldom seen by man or woman. Edgar had accepted the fact that he was a fairy, but still, the thought that he wasn’t human stirred something inside him. What happens when a fairy loves a human girl…?

Suddenly, something ripped through his thoughts. There was something standing behind one of the castle buttresses, looking at him. The shadows cloaking the figure did not seem natural; they seemed cast by some obscure, dark magic. But through the blackness, Edgar could barely make out two pale green eyes. They were not the grass-green eyes of the fairy Genesta. Their color made his mother’s skin look dark. The paleness…it was so sickening to look at that Edgar finally snapped his head away from the image just as his parents guided him through the courtyard gate.

The cheering behind them continued until the three fairies were out of earshot. Edgar was smiling in amazement at his mother and father as they walked on either side of him, along the mossy path that led through the gardens. In some places, the trees grew so thickly they resembled pieces of jungles. Delicious fruits hung from the branches, never more than five feet above the ground. The small bushes, though squat and stunted, also grew proudly within their marble-rimmed spaces.

There were also more of the beautiful statues and fountains in places that one would think they were growing out of the earth. Decorative nozzles that sprayed jets of water over the walkway into vases on the opposite side, statues of winged humans and lions, humans with heads and tails of wild cats, elaborate vases with detailed figures carved into their sides with designs and motifs from every culture Edgar had ever heard of, and then some.

Yet among all these unearthly wonders, only one caught Edgar’s eye. They were reaching the point where the path opened into a small, grassy meadow with a ring of trees that grew together, forming a small, organic gazebo. The terrain was rockier here than the inner gardens. That was probably because the edge of the island was only a few strides away, guarded only by a low rock barrier.

Near the barrier, rimmed with large green stones resembling jade, stood an old, stone fountain. There was no water shooting into the air and down again, and there was only one spire rising out of a deep basin. Edgar stepped closer, his parents staying near the path’s end. The closer he got to the odd fountain, the more he saw of it. There were strange, carved ropes winding their way up from the base and around the rim, as well as around the spire. Slowly, Edgar stepped closer and peered into the stone basin.

The water in the basin was clear and cold, running down from the spire’s tiny nozzle, spiraling down the carved ropes and finally reaching its destination in the quiet fountain water. For a minute, Edgar could only see his reflection in the water, but then it stuck him: there was something on the floor of the basin. He stepped around the basin so that his back was facing the midmorning sun that struck the shining surface, and peered into the fountain’s pool again.

What he saw sent a stream of emotions through him. Roses. Dozens of Roses, carved directly into the stone of the fountain. Not a single one alike. Some partially open, some fully in bloom. There was no algae growing anywhere, as if the roses had a power of their own. Now Edgar could see the fine details of this masterpiece: the nearly nonexistent pink tint that shrouded the petals of every rose, the thorns on the ropes, which were actually stems, stems of roses, of course, as well as the delicate, tear-shaped leaves, their veins and edges finely webbed. Not a single thorn was poking out, not one was in a position to be broken off. It was truly amazing, Edgar thought, that only a mere fountain could make a person feel this much.

No. It was not only the fountain. It was its symbolism. In the same way that the cross symbolized the Christian savior, the delicate roses reminded him of the girl whom he had asked to marry so many months ago. The roses looked just like the one he had slipped her under the door to his room, their redness was even more prominent as he gazed into their spreading centers. He almost felt like crying as he remembered her. What would beautiful, free Rosella think of him now, a fairy prince in a kingdom in the clouds? Edgar shook off the question, but the petals never left his memory.

Chapter 3:

“You like the fountain?” asked his father. “It was one of the first fountains constructed on this, the main island of Etheria.”

“It is beautiful,” said Edgar, slowly trudging alongside the stone barrier near the edge of the island. Several more of the violet-hued islands were hanging in the clouds, several miles from where he was. He could spot an occasional dragonette darting from one island to the next, sometimes to the main island, right past his location, almost nicking his long, tan cloak once. I guess they can be fierce little things, Edgar guessed. Even in paradise…

Then he remembered something, something he had heard his father mention and had wanted to ask him about. He turned left, away from the precipice, and walked towards his waiting parents.

“Father,” Edgar began, “I heard you speak of a realm besides this one when you spoke to your subjects. The Realm of…Eldritch, I think?”

“Yes,” replied Oberon. “That is the realm of the mortals, who live below us, though we occasionally visit their world. Still, this land of Etheria and Eldritch is different from the one you were living in. On our journey, we passed though a barrier that is only permeable by those of the fairy clan, as well as other magic beasties.”

“There is no way for mortals to enter this world?” Edgar questioned.

“Probably not,” Oberon said pensively, “There are ways to…open doors, or windows into this realm…but I have never gone into the art of opening such rifts. Our people could be harmed. Still, I have no objection of people from the outside making their own little rat-holes into here…”

“So I’ll never have a chance of meeting her again…” Edgar murmured to himself, so softly that it was barely audible.

“What did you say, Edgar?”

“Nothing, father. Nothing. It’s just that…” his eyes looked at a place behind and beside his parents and dug his toes into the soft earth at his feet. Looking back at them, he changed his mind about telling them about Rosella, and changed the subject. “…Can we visit the Realm of Eldritch today, father?”

“Today?” Titania asked. “With such a celebration planned for this evening?”

Oberon placed one of his large hands on his wife’s shoulder. “Titania, dear, we have not seen our boy in eighteen years. He deserves whatever he wishes today. Later we will make a few restrictions, but Edgar has already proven to be responsible. I will take him to Eldritch.”

Edgar smiled, his eyes radiant with excitement. “Thank you, father,” he said, almost bowing slightly in his gratefulness.

“And you promise to return before the sun begins to set?”

“Of course, maybe sooner,” promised Oberon. “It is barely midmorning. We should be home perhaps an hour or two past noon.”

“I promise too, mother,” Edgar added, looking at her sincerely.

“All right,” said Titania. “You can go.” Then she reached out and held one of Edgar’s hands in hers and looked into his deep mahogany eyes. “You are a good man, Edgar. I can’t tell you how happy I am knowing that my son has grown into such a kind, responsible person. One might think you were almost human, so much respect for others you have.”

Yeah, Edgar thought. Almost.

“And I pray that you will be happy as well, now that you are home…Well, I’ll return to the castle now to help Elfreda prepare for your celebration, Edgar. I hope you enjoy your visit to Eldritch.”

“As do I.” said Oberon. Titania released her son’s hand and delicately turned and walked back along the garden path, the thick trees soon blotting her out of Edgar’s and Oberon’s sight. Oberon turned to his son and said:

“Well, the sooner we start, the better. I call the Alabaster Swan! Come now to our side!”

Cupping his free hand to his mouth, Oberon whistled one long, loud note which seemed to last for about ten seconds, maybe more. Before the echo had died out, a pure white swan chariot, the same one Edgar had stepped out of an hour or so earlier, glided above the trees of the garden and slowly spiraled down, coming to a rest in the field before Edgar and his father.

“Incredible,” Edgar breathed in astonishment. “You know how to call this swan?”

“It’s fairly simple to master,” said Oberon. “This creature was actually fashioned out of wood and silk, then brought to life with a strange…I think it’s a magic powder your mother has been keeping out of sight ever since she received it a couple centuries ago…she even used it on the towers and walls of our castle so that broken parts mend themselves or create new ways of support. It’s an amazing thing, magic.”

“I would guess,” said Edgar. “Uhh…do we get in now?”

“Yes, Edgar. Come on, don’t be afraid.”

Edgar didn’t say anything back to his father, but silently prepared to get aboard the swan. Before he stepped over the wing and into the compartment, he noticed a small pile of smooth, indigo pebbles in the grass. They were fairly large and very beautiful. His sense of aesthetics being fairly good, Edgar bent over and scooped up a palmful of the stones. Placing them safely in a pocket, he stepped over the great white wing of the swan, sliding comfortably into the chariot’s seating recess.

“Very good; one would think you were a natural,” complemented Oberon, getting in on Edgar’s left side. After tapping a hand on the sleek shoulder of the swan, the enchanted chariot rose into the air, then forwards, into the seemingly infinite archipelagos of Etheria.

The smaller isles, now quite familiar to Edgar, seemed to skim past his eyes like a sparse flock of birds, until something very large flickered out of the corner of his left eye. Snapping his head around, Edgar peered off the port side of the chariot and glimpsed an island so huge that the top was hidden in a bank of mist and fog. Edgar slowly followed it up to the top with his eyes, mouth open in awe. Then, quickly closing his mouth as he realized he was probably being observed by his father, he asked him what the gargantuan monolith was.

“Ah, that is the Mountain of the Winds,” explained Oberon. “The Lord and Lady of the Winds, Levanter and Gharbi, hold court at its peak, along with their many subjects and servants.”

Edgar put a bent finger to his chin in thought. “Hmm. That’s quite a concept, I think. Are you sure it isn’t a myth, like some things in the mortal world?”

Oberon laughed loudly, cutting Edgar’s statement off. “A myth? Edgar, look at us! To some mortals, we are myths! And you ask if our closest neighbors are a mere legend! That is a laugh!”

Edgar smiled timidly, still a bit embarrassed. “Yeah. I guess it is funny. I’d better watch what I say here.”

Oberon put his arm across his son’s broad shoulders and looked into his face. “You’ll learn soon enough. You’re a bright boy, and I’m sure you’ll learn all you wish to know in time, Edgar.”

His bearded face grinned kindly at Edgar. He smiled again in return as Oberon withdrew his arm and continued scanning the skies for whatever he thought was worth watching. The swan was circling the Mountain of the Winds as it began its descent to Eldritch. Suddenly, something else caught Edgar’s ever-alert eyes, this time on the starboard side. Peering over the edge, he saw a lush, green meadow much like the gardens he had walked through earlier, surrounded by beautiful, flowery arches and topiaries, with more of the fantastic bushes and trees that were endemic to Etheria.

Yet in the main meadow, there was something Edgar hadn’t noticed before. On each rounded corner of that part of the island, a large, flat rainbow sprouted like a bridge from the rocky edge, then arched slightly before dropping straight down, through the clouds below.

“What’s that?” he asked his father. Oberon looked over Edgar’s shoulder and nodded as he spoke.

“We call it The Crossroads. It’s simply a junction with each rainbow leading down to a different part of Eldritch. It makes travel simpler for some, not so for others. I chose the Swan so we could stay together and not put you in any danger.”

“You’re still that concerned about me?” Edgar asked.

“I know, I’m too paranoid right now. Titania’s sister Malicia has been causing some minor…problems recently…I don’t know what it is, but we should have it resolved soon.”

Chapter 4:

“I hope,” Edgar sighed, looking at his father’s concerned face. Glancing down over the side again revealed that they were finally breaking through the blankets of clouds. There was a hot, dusty wind in the air, and through his suddenly watery vision, Edgar could just make out land beneath. It appeared to be…

“Nothing!” he said, coughing heavily. “It’s all…desert.”

“That it is,” replied Oberon, shielding his eyes with his hand. “The great desert of Eldritch, going on endlessly for as long as one can imagine in every direction except north.”

“What’s up there?” Edgar asked, his voice still ragged with the burning dust.

“An oasis. A most peculiar one, at that. An ancient people once inhabited that region, possibly our ancestors, for the stone statues and relics which still stand amid the spiny cacti and long dead trees still have strong magic pulsing through them.”

As Oberon spoke, the oasis appeared through the shimmering atmosphere, as if it heard him narrating and wished to be seen at the right time. There were many of the statues and stone temples that Edgar’s father spoke of, as well as a pool of water that reflected so much light from the sun that it could hardly be looked at.

“Is that pool a source of water?” Edgar asked, pointing downwards.

“It is not fresh water,” said Oberon. “There is so much salt contained in it that it is undrinkable.”

“Salt? How did these people survive, then?”

“I believe there is a ritual involved to purify the water, at least, that’s what I have heard.”

“I would hope so. Salt water in a desert. Like a rubber crutch…”

“Do you want me to tell you about what we are flying over now, or do you want to figure it out by observation?”

“Oh, you go on, father. I’m sorry if I said…”

“You didn’t,” assured Oberon. “I’m not offended. Anyway, there is a passage which goes through the mountains you see cutting off the desert, but we’ll take the high road – up and over.”

The swan swooped upwards and skimmed over the narrow strip of mountains, nearly grazing the top of one of the peaks.

“These things are so high, I’d think they’d almost stick up into Etheria,” said Edgar.

“Odd, I was going to tell you that, and yes, they do, some within mere feet of some of the smaller isles. This is an exception, this lower part we’re going through.”

The mountains were abruptly replaced by low, lush meadows, not like the turquoise mosses in Etheria at all. These were grasses of the mortal world, grasses that grew in the gardens on Genesta’s isle in Tamir, along with aged, towering oaks; younger, delicate saplings and flowers sprouting everywhere, all this with a crystalline, aquamarine river flowing through the meadow, under a white marble bridge, near which were two beautiful, gigantic statues that appeared Greek in origin, each a young maiden on either side of the river. In many ways, Edgar thought this part of the mortal world was every bit as beautiful as Etheria, perhaps even more so.

“This is the Bountiful Woods,” explained Oberon, as Edgar leaned over the side even more, his hair flopping into his eyes as he tried to keep it out. “Lord Attis, God of the Hunt, resides here, along with his bride, Ceres, she who keeps the woods alive.”

“Wait,” interrupted Edgar. “I don’t mean anything against it, but…why is the God of the Hunt married to the Goddess of Nature? Isn’t that a little…odd?”

“At first, one would think so,” replied Oberon. “One creates, one destroys. But think beyond that: the plants Ceres helps grow feed the many animals that roam the forest. There are so few predators in the Bountiful Woods that the animals start growing in number until there is no more left to eat. Even when many starve to death, there is still too little.

"To prevent this from happening, Attis sometimes slays an animal or two. It is a cruel thing to do, but the balance has to be maintained. One can’t exist without the other. Nature can’t live without the Hunter, and vice versa. So, you can see there is a reason why these two are married now, Edgar.”

Edgar looked thoughtful as he gazed through the trees and noticed a doe with two fawns grazing below. “Yes. I do think I see now, father.”

Oberon smiled and turned his head to look over the country along with Edgar. The swan was flying north, with a slight arc to the west. Several seconds passed before Oberon spoke again.

“I have heard rumors of a slumbering rock spirit who dwells in the woods,” he said. “I myself have seen a large dragon’s cave.”

Edgar spun around in his seat, nearly rocking the chariot off course in his excitement. “A dragon’s cave? Where does it lead?”

“As far as I could gather, straight down.”

“Oh,” Edgar said, wincing uneasily. “I’ll pass on that.”

No sooner had he spoken than a bright, colorful town appeared under them. Edgar again poked his head over the edge to get as best a view as he could. “What kind of town is that? I’ve never heard of such a…Hey – is that an upside-down tower, or do I still have some sand in my eyes?”

“More than likely, it is,” chuckled Oberon, glancing over the side at a much slighter lean than his son. “Falderal is one of the strangest places for anyone. The only inhabitants are animals, all of them just a little silly, but don’t let them know that.”

Edgar laughed in response to this, still glancing down at the ludicrous-looking town. There were occasional shouts and hollers from various places, either from out of shop windows or around the pool in the town square – though it seemed quite round to Edgar – and every once in a while one of the finely dressed inhabitants would strut across a street or down a boulevard.

Edgar was quite fascinated and very amused – an emotion which rarely found him – and was still leaning over, visually affixed to Falderal, when suddenly, a strange, winged creature shot up from somewhere in the town (it was difficult to judge where). Edgar had only a brief glimpse of it – a strange, golden bird with multicolored wings and a long, also colorful tail – before it skyrocketed upwards and smashed into his face, sending him sprawling into his father’s lap with a loud “Oww!” The bird, apparently as amused as Edgar was before, stopped its rapid ascent and began hovering in midair, laughing in a squawking, very irritating voice.

Edgar was still lying stunned, repeatedly muttering “ow” or other expletives of pain, with one hand over his nose, which the creature had impacted the most. Still seeing stars, Edgar stood up and looked to his right. His father also looked. The strange bird was still there, circling the chariot and hovering in place occasionally, still squawking in an incomprehensible tongue which almost seemed like catcalling to Edgar, and he was certain the bird was mocking him.

“What was that?” he said, his hand still clasped over his nose.

“Probably one of those infernal Flights of Fancy. They’re usually harmless, but sometimes…”

“Wait, wait,” said Edgar, “I meant the bird. What do you mean by flight of fancy?”

“That is what that creature is,” explained Oberon. “That is a Flight of Fancy, a typical denizen of Falderal, beautiful, sociable, but very vain, and…” here he looked at Edgar briefly, “…occasionally mischievous.”

Rolling his eyes and groaning sarcastically, Edgar cautiously drew his hand away from his face and tried to get a good look at his injured olfactory organ. There was no blood, only a large bruise. It still hurt, but Edgar considered himself lucky, considering the circumstances. Turning to the fiendish Flight of Fancy, Edgar reached into his pocket and drew out one of the indigo pebbles he had found in the garden on the main isle of Etheria and slung it at the bird with the accuracy of an arrow.

Though his aim was excellent, the creature ducked and shrieked at Edgar even more, this time it even proceeded to blow him a loud, long-winded raspberry. This made Edgar bristle with anger, and without considering that two wrongs don’t always make a right, he snatched another stone, drew back his arm and threw his missile with such force that he nearly spun in a complete circle. The rock smacked the Flight of Fancy in the chest. The bird squealed in pain and frustration, turned tail and sped off in another direction. It was out of sight within seconds.

Breathing heavily, still looking after the bird’s path, eyes still narrowed with aggression, Edgar slowly sunk back into his seat, crossed his arms and bowed his head, as if in guilt.

“That was quite a show you put on there, Edgar,” chuckled Oberon. “That bird deserved what you gave him, without a doubt. I didn’t know you were such a good thrower.”

“Well, I used to throw pebbles at bats in Lolotte’s castle when I was a boy.”

“Hmmph! I didn’t know you were that mischievous before,” said Oberon.

“And I didn’t know my father was Lord of the Fairies,” said Edgar, looking at his father out of the corner of his eye.

“We both have a lot to learn,” his father smiled. “I’m sure we will have…Oh, we’re already here.”

Chapter 5:

Edgar suddenly felt a chill flash through his nerves. The air around them had grown cold and stale, the sky was growing darker and the clouds above them were thickening as they continued.

Below the chariot was an eerie land, a sea of large, flat hills dotted with odd, often irregular stone markers. Upon looking closer, Edgar realized they were tombstones. He shuddered and drew away from the side of the swan, towards his father.

“This is the Land of Ooga Booga,” said Oberon, speaking as solemnly as before, only this time with a slight tremor in his voice. “At least, that’s what the people call it. I agree, it is a dark place, but one of our most trusted friends lives here.”

“Here?” Edgar asked through clenched teeth. “In this cemetery? I’ve seen cheerier places in Lolotte’s…”

The sight of a crudely built but stately abode caused him to cut himself off. The old, dilapidated house had an iron-rod fence constructed around it, with an open gate parallel to the front door.

“Is that where he lives?” Edgar asked.

“No, that house belongs to the coroner, Dr. Mort Cadaver. Can’t say I know him too well, but I hear he means well. Count Tsepish’s mansion is…there.”

Following his father’s pointing finger led Edgar’s eyes to a large, towering, white mansion – at least, it must have been white at one time – surrounded by a large stone wall on one side. A large, steel-black stallion stood outside the house, tied to a small, dead tree, fully bridled and saddled, reflecting the lighter tones of the mansion. Though also on the mediocre side, this house was definitely one of the most beautiful in the tenebrous, chilling land.

A young woman, probably seeing them from afar, opened the front door of the house and peered out. After scanning the land, then glancing up and seeing the great swan approaching, she ducked back inside, leaving the door part-way open.

“This…Count Tsepish is your friend, then?” Edgar asked.

“Yes, he is the protector and ruler of Ooga Booga. He has fought many battles, both major and minor. But I still think he is getting a little worked up about that nuisance of a sister-in-law of mine.”

“You mean…” Edgar shuddered as he spoke the word, “Malicia?”

“Yes. I always called her the green-eyed monster. She’s always been not only a jealous type, but overly proud, ambitious, irritable and absolutely nothing like her sister, my Titania…and probably the perfect opposite of you.”

Edgar shrugged and turned his eyes to the ground again, which was growing closer by the moment as the swan began to descend. When they were about five feet from landing, something huge, black and muscular sped out through the open door of the mansion, heading straight towards where the swan was going to settle. Edgar drew in a sharp breath of air in alarm, but relaxed when he saw it was only a large hound dog, barking and dancing in circles, as if to welcome the two visitors. Just as Edgar began to feel concerned about the swan crushing the dog by mistake, a tall, dark-haired, bearded man stepped outside the house, followed by the young woman who first noticed him and Oberon.

“Valiant! Black Valiant, come here!” called the man. The dog pricked up its ears at the sound of its master’s voice and raced to his side, nuzzling the underside of his hand affectionately.

The swan finally landed, and Oberon stepped out. Edgar slid over and got out on the same side, following his father to the front yard of the house, where stood the couple and the black hound.

“My liege,” said the man, bowing low in respect, followed by a small curtsey from the woman behind him. “What brings you to this region of the rigor mortis?”

Oberon placed a hand on Edgar’s shoulder. “I believe the correct term is who brings me here, Vladmir.”

In the space of about five minutes, Oberon had introduced Edgar to Count Vladmir Tsepish, Lord Protector of Ooga Booga; and his beautiful wife, Elspeth, a woman with large brown eyes and long golden hair that fell nearly to her legs. Images of Rosella briefly flashed across Edgar’s memory, and for a moment he didn’t hear what was going on.

“So, Edgar,” Vladmir was saying, “You are a magic worker by birth, yes?”

Edgar blinked his eyes and gathered his thoughts before speaking:

“I suppose I am. I just never knew I was until…well, about six hours ago.”

Vladmir smiled, stroking his goatee contemplatively. “Sometimes when that happens, a fairy’s power can lessen over time or even vanish entirely. But it can be revived under certain circumstances…”

“What circumstances?”

“Oh, strong emotions, feelings never felt previously, love, fear, grief. Or the magic can just snap back without warning. It’s an odd thing.”

But Edgar didn’t hear what Vladmir was saying about magic being odd. What he kept hearing was “love.” How love can revive dormant powers. How feelings never felt before can affect…

“Edgar?”

Again, Edgar snapped back into his body and looked at Count Tsepish, who was still speaking to him. “You wish to meet my Valiant, Edgar?”

Edgar glanced down and suddenly realized that he had unknowingly been beckoning with his right hand to the large dog sitting beside the Count. Now the dog had arisen, walked over to Edgar and was now sniffing his palm. Unsure how to explain that he didn’t mean to distract the animal, Edgar replied, “Yes, I suppose. He is yours?”

“He has been for some time,” said Count Tsepish as the dog began licking Edgar’s hand gently. “One of the finest fighting dogs I have ever rode with. Black Valiant can kill if he needs to, but he never is short on kindness and affection.”

The dog, Black Valiant, had been licking Edgar’s hand while the Count was speaking, and now the hound proceeded to flip Edgar’s hand over with his muzzle and rub his head against it, indicating that he wanted to be scratched. Cautiously, Edgar scratched Black Valiant’s pate with his fingertips, gradually moving back to the ears and neck. Vladmir Tsepish and Oberon both smiled at the two with equal pride. Edgar finally stopped scratching the dog’s head, and the animal promptly sat back down and looked at his new friend with blue eyes, and seemed to almost grin as he whacked his tail against the ground.

“He likes you, Edgar,” said the Count. “Not many people are greeted as kindly as you were. You agree, Valiant?”

The dog barked and trotted back to his master’s side, nosing his way under Vladmir’s arm. While this was happening, Edgar had been slowly scanning the house and the yard, when he suddenly noticed the black horse. Up close, he was much more muscular and solemn than from the air. A well-worn leather bridle was around the horse’s head, the reins fastened to the old tree Edgar had also seen from the air. An ornate saddle with crimson pads underneath graced the animal’s high back. The stirrups seemed about Edgar’s length…he had seen horses before in Lolotte’s stables, but never like this…

“Say, your highness…Edgar, son, you shouldn’t stray so close to Necromancer! He does not…”

Again, the sounds of the world faded out as Edgar glanced down and suddenly realized that his feet had been moving him slowly towards the head of the dark stallion, again without his knowledge. One part of his mind knew that he shouldn’t be approaching this strange horse, a horse that didn’t even know him and was probably even magical. But the raw instincts of the lower levels of his mind were blocking off Vladmir’s shouted warnings, even when Elspeth made a grab for his arm, he instantly shook her off, at least, that part of his body did.

Now he was only two steps from the stallion’s broad head. The muzzle was like dark velvet, as was the rest of his face. The eyes like polished obsidian, the graceful sweep of the ears and the course yet beautiful glistening hairs of the horse’s mane. There didn’t seem to be anything threatening about this creature. Impossible.

Edgar slowly lifted his right hand before the horse’s face. One of the animal’s ears turned back and he snorted quietly, giving Edgar the impression that he was apprehensive about this person before him.

“No, Edgar! You mustn’t…”

Before the words of Count Tsepish had ceased, Edgar had moved his hand forward, so smoothly and slowly it appeared as if he were pushing something invisible through the air. The stallion snorted again and stamped one hoof in the dirt at his feet. Edgar paid no attention to the motions and several milliseconds later, his hand was touching the muzzle of the Count’s black steed.

For an instant, time seemed to stop, and Edgar could feel the blood suspended in his veins.

Chapter 6:

Far above the Realm of Eldritch, inside one of the many chambers within the living, growing castle on the main isle, Queen Titania was making preparations for her son’s welcoming celebration. Pouring a minute amount of the amber liquid into each of the carved jade goblets from a silver jug, she placed each of them upon a white tray and carried it down a short hallway. There were several windows which looked out upon the many lower stories of the palace as well as the widespread, well-tended gardens and fields, with the lavender skies and distant floating isles of Etheria in the distance.

Delicate vines crept over the windowsills and into the castle from the outside walls. Noticing a delicate blue flower with a flaming violet center, Titania plucked it gently from one of the vines and placed it on the tray along with the nectar-filled goblets, and smiled with satisfaction. She walked on down the hall until it opened into another room, with marble floors lined with gold and a high, domed ceiling with carved rose vines climbing up to its apex. Tall windows let in the midday sunlight and made the gold upon the floors glitter like water.

Against one of the rounded walls was a painted, rose-colored, round wooden table. Titania walked across the room to it and gently placed the tray in the center. Then she reached into a deep fold of her robe and extracted a fine, silk web similar to a spider’s, but stronger and different in several ways. Reaching out with her free hand, Titania formed a small arch from the edge of the table, over the goblets of nectar, then stopping at the adjacent wall. As she moved her hand, she spoke several words in the ancient fairy language, words that were magical, no matter what context they were used in. The air shimmered and a transparent half-dome appeared. It surrounded the drink-laden tray from the round edges of the table to the white wall beside it.

Satisfied with her work, Titania spoke another word and the hemisphere vanished. She reached out and lifted one of the goblets, to see if the hemisphere was truly gone. Placing the goblet back, she then lifted the delicate, web-like sheet over the region where the shield around the drinks was previously. Even though there was nothing there, the woven material lay suspended in the air, and as Titania let it fall from her hands, the webbing remained in a position exactly like it would be if it were resting upon the hemisphere – except it had vanished. It was invisible, yet permeable to anyone, human, fairy or otherwise. The cloth Titania had placed over it was magic as well, for although anyone could see through it, no insect, windblown leaf or mischievous dragonette could accidentally take a dunking in the precious nectar. It was a practical use of magic, and consequently, very safe. The young queen stepped back and admired her work.

“Titania, dear,” said a low yet almost raspy female voice Titania did not immediately recognize. Glancing back over her shoulder, she glimpsed a tall figure clothed in magenta and black robes. She turned around to face the person, whom she was surprised she did not recognize at first.

It was her sister. Wearing those dark dresses and capes she had always loved, even when they were children; pale, death-like skin which she always kept under layers of powder, as if she feared people seeing her true color; that long, black hair she always kept ridiculously high on her head, except in the mornings and evenings (and Titania hadn’t slept in the same room as her for ages), when it fell to her waist, maybe longer…and her eyes. Those snake-like, pale green eyes. The way they flashed at a person from between the heavy applications of mascara and eye-shadow could jounce a heart into beating nearly twice as fast.

But Titania was used to looking into her eyes, though she hadn’t seen her sister face to face for weeks now. She kept to herself, as if she were scheming or negotiating with other sides…Titania pushed these thoughts out of her mind. She could not accuse her sister of anything like that. Even with the “disturbances” (as Oberon called them) that kept occurring…

“Malicia, I wasn’t expecting you,” said Titania, realizing that the reason why was because there was another door on the opposite side from the one she entered through. Still, it was a slight surprise.

“I wasn’t expecting you would expect me,” answered Malicia, smiling with thin, blood-hued lips and stepping closer to Titania. “Sister, I need to discuss something of great importance with you.”

“Does it concern only you, or the whole kingdom?”

Malicia almost blurted out “both,” but she kept her mouth sealed. She couldn’t let it slip out that easily. “It primarily concerns me, Titania. No, mostly, I would think.”

“I see. What is it, though?”

“Sister…you remember that container of magic powder you got so many centuries ago?”

“Yes.”

“And the way you cast it about the walls and towers of the castle and helped it stay stable and mighty throughout all these years?”

“Of course.”

“You even used some of the stuff on the fleet of flying swan chariots that old Royal Carpenter of ours designed and built?”

“Yes, Malicia.”

“But I am aware that even after so much usage, there was still a small smidgen of the powder left. Is this true?”

“Yes. I have it locked away in one of the cabinets in the lower laboratories. But there’s so little left that it’s hardly worth keeping. I doubt what’s left could cover the back of one swan chariot…”

As Titania continued, Malicia smiled secretly to herself. Everything was going along smoothly. She was playing the innocent sister, and her all-trustworthy sibling was slowly revealing everything she needed. Keep acting as if this is new to you…look interested…

“…and I don’t know why anyone would want it, either. A gnome would find it inadequate in volume. Even if…”

“But there is still a measurable amount left?”

“Yes, but, as I said, not much.”

“Even if you say there isn’t enough left to do anything with, I still think I could make good use of that powder, Titania.”

“What do you mean? What would you do?” A nervous twitch of nerves interrupted Malicia’s self-assured thoughts. Her sister was trying to get deeper, to uncover what she was plotting. She had to keep her from getting too far in…

“I’m not quite certain yet, but I still believe…”

“Malicia, if you’re not sure what to do with it, why do you want it so much?”

Malicia began to grow uneasy as she replied: “Sometimes I figure out what to do with useful items if they are in my possession. What would you do with a group of inactive young dancers unless you found a fairy ring?”

“True, but still, you are my sister, and we can still share secrets with each other, can’t we?”

Titania’s naïve innocence seemed to be Malicia’s way out of the conversation. “Children do grow older, Titania. I’ve had a hard time these past few months. Everyone seems to distrust me. Sometimes, I think, even you – just a little. So I find it extremely – difficult to trust someone now. Very difficult.”

Malicia’s sister seemed softened by the short statement. “Oh, I am sorry, Malicia, dear. I never realized that you were so…”

“It’s quite all right, sister. I just have trouble being open to people these days. You understand…”

“Yes. I think I do. All right, I’ll go fetch the magic powder you want. Just wait here.”

“No, I believe I’ll come with you.” Titania frowned briefly, then shrugged slightly, in a ladylike manner.

“All right.”

She turned and led Malicia through the door opposite to the one she had entered through, walking briskly, her robes trailing behind her. Before she had gotten three feet beyond the threshold, she turned to her sister and asked:

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me? I won’t say anything, I promise.”

Malicia looked at the floor with a forlorn, pouting expression. “I’m sure.”

After a short pause, Titania turned and continued walking down the corridor, her destination the top of the main staircase, which was a major junction point for the castle. From there, they could find the quickest shortcut to the laboratories.

Titania never looked behind her, but she probably should have, because if she did, she would have seen her dark-robed sister wearing a sinister, triumphant grin, silently laughing evilly to herself, her eyes narrow slits with pinpricks of green gleaming like a snake’s just before it strikes.

Chapter 7:

Everyone standing near Edgar was shocked, amazed, terrified, or perhaps all three at once. Here he stood, the long-lost, eighteen-year-old son of Oberon and Titania, once false son and slave to the wicked fairy Lolotte, shy and good-mannered as well as having a good appearance, not seeming to have any knowledge of the magic his parents and people delved in nearly every day of their long lives, standing with his hand pressed against the broad muzzle of the wildest, fiercest stallion to ever tread upon Eldritch soil, Count Tsepish’s black, ghostly horse, Necromancer.

Edgar’s mind was finally starting to reconnect to the rest of his body. He was ready to pull away and throw his arms up to defend himself from the fierce, unearthly creature, but the horse seemed gentle now that he was touching him. Edgar very gently stroked the front of Necromancer’s head, and the tall stallion blinked his eyes slowly, the lids drooping. The horse’s ears turned forward and he delicately smelled the strange hand that was touching him.

Edgar then moved his hand back along the side of the animal’s face to stroke the silky black mane and muscular, arching neck. Necromancer showed no resistance or resentment as this new person petted him. He only followed Edgar with one of his large, round eyes, turning his head as the boy moved further down his body.

Finally, a voice broke through the deathly silence:

“This is truly amazing,” said the Count in a low voice. “Necromancer has gravely injured or even killed individuals who dared to get within a yard of his face. You are not only very brave, but I think you still have some of the raw magic flowing inside you.”

Edgar slowly turned away from the dark horse, his hand still on the broad neck. “Really? I didn’t think I had anything.”

“The power of mind control – the power to tame and subdue wild beasts. Few fairies are fortunate to have such an ability, let alone one as strong as you seem to possess. But the way you do this is different. Magically subdued animals are usually cloudy-eyed and stiff as stones, as if they were in a trance. But look at the way Necromancer acts. He is still alert, yet doesn’t attack you, even though you are a stranger to him. He not only allowed himself to be tamed by you, but I think he also likes you.”

The right corner of Edgar’s mouth turned up, and he shrugged modestly.

“You are more than I thought, highness,” Count Tsepish continued. “I am sorry I so foolishly doubted you when I first saw you. I truly am.”

Oberon arched his bushy, blond eyebrows, then narrowed his eyes at this brief speech. “Vladmir! What do you mean, you doubted my boy? First you doubt he will show up after eighteen years, now when he shows up, you doubt him again!” He roared with laughter, and the Count eventually had to join him, with the realization that he was only jesting. Oberon gave his friend a heavy pat on the back and smiled at him.

“I knew he would be a good boy,” he continued. “I knew it from the day I saw him in the cradle. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier, Vladmir.”

The three people stood in silence for a few more minutes as Edgar continued stroking Necromancer’s neck and shoulders. His glance fell upon the beautiful leather saddle, and rested there as his stroking continued for a few more minutes until it eventually slowed down, then stopped, his hand still on the horse’s skin. It was such an amazing work of art, like nothing he had ever seen before. It was some time before he stopped admiring the fine stitching and vivid colors of the saddle and began contemplating the actual purpose of the device.

“You want to try to mount him?” came Count Tsepish’s voice from behind him, as if he could read Edgar’s thoughts. Edgar turned his head and gave a slight nod. Vladmir Tsepish walked over to his horse’s side, his cape floating behind him. Necromancer pricked up his ears and nuzzled his master under the arm.

“You have done this before?” asked the Count.

“No – but I’ve seen it done many times before in books and in Lolotte’s stables. I think I can do it.”

“It isn’t as easy as it appears. I will hold the horn in place for you.” Count Tsepish clutched the base of the saddle horn with his left hand as Edgar prepared to put his foot in the stirrup.

“It’s the…left foot, correct?”

“Yes. It seems awkward, but that’s just the way it is.” Edgar lifted his left leg and hopped unsteadily on his right for a few moments until he got the toe of his boot firmly wedged in the metal semicircle.

“Just grasp the horn and swing your right leg over,” said the Count. “Don’t worry if you don’t make it. Just try again.”

After testing the stability of the saddle, Edgar attempted to do as he was instructed, but his maneuver proved to be much harder than it appeared before in books. After briefly planning his move again, he pressed his left foot firmly into the stirrup and swung his right leg over, landing directly in the center of the leather saddle.

The height was greater than he’d imagined. He could see so much from here, the gravestones, the coroner’s house, a distant tangle of dead bushes and trees…then again, he couldn’t see that much…not that much interesting stuff…but still, look where he was! Sitting astride Vladmir Tsepish’s black stallion! And to think that touching the horse was amazing enough! Hah! Edgar was ready to give the steed a kick with his heels and go riding across Eldritch, through the Bountiful Woods, across the endless desert, riding the great, wild horse as if he were riding a dragon through Etheria, through the cloud-layered islands, dodging in and out, across the mists…

Suddenly, something pulled Edgar out of his daydream. This horse was something else. True, he was wild and fierce, and strong as a centaur, but still there was something else that made him feel different as he sat in the saddle. The stallion’s body felt light under him. On the ground, Necromancer felt muscular and thick, indicating that he should be a very heavy animal, but he wasn’t.

Edgar felt like he was mounted on something with invisible wings, with a span even wider than that of the swan chariot, which was grounded a few yards from him. He trembled at the thought and realized that although he had befriended and mounted the great horse, he was not ready to ride him. Not yet. The look in the Count’s eyes seemed to speak the same message.

“He is not quite fit to be ridden,” Count Tsepish said. “I just thought that you would like to feel what it is like to sit on such a steed. I sometimes question if he is truly mine, or that I am truly his. But you will know when he is ready to be ridden, Edgar. I always do.”

Edgar nodded and lifted his right leg out of its stirrup, swinging off the saddle and landing on Necromancer’s left side. Oberon, who had been watching his son with absolute astonishment all this time, suddenly glanced at his shadow, then back at Edgar and exclaimed:

“Goodness, son, it’s almost two hours past midday! We’d better be off before your mother grows concerned!”

Edgar turned his head to his father and remembered what they had both promised Titania. “Oh yes. I see. Well…thank you for your great kindness and hospitality, Count Tsepish,” he said, bowing before the tall man now clutching the stallion’s reins.

“It is I who should be thanking you,” replied the Count. “I have never seen such a remarkable young person as you. You will surely bring honor to your family, Edgar.”

At this point, Elspeth, who had said little during their conversation, stepped forward and clasped Edgar’s hands in hers. “I have this much to say to you, Prince Edgar: even without your incredible abilities, you are still a good person underneath. If we ever have a son, I pray it will be like you.”

Edgar smiled modestly as Elspeth walked back to her husband’s side. As Oberon turned to leave and Edgar started to, the black dog that Edgar had petted earlier during the visit bounded forward and nuzzled Edgar’s side affectionately. Surprised, Edgar stopped briefly to give the hound a final scratch behind the ears before starting after his father.

“I told you Valiant liked you,” called Count Tsepish. “Good-bye, majesties! And be careful not to step in any open graves! You never know what’s down there!”

Edgar made a small noise of disgust and squeamishly continued walking towards the swan chariot. To the right of the great mansion was an open field of graves and eroded tombstones that continued southward, disappearing into the darkness. Edgar could just make out what looked like a large forest looming out of the gloom.

“What’s that?” he asked quietly, pointing at the distant trees.

“Oh, that’s the swamp which connects Ooga Booga to the forest between it and the Bountiful Woods. It is called the Wood of the Were-folk. A very unnerving place, and the swamp isn’t that much better. Very few pass through that region.”

As he spoke, Edgar’s gaze was traveling back to the field of graves. He had seen something before that seemed peculiar. Now he saw it again: a high, domed structure looming over a large, dark hole in the earth. As he looked closer, he could see a pair of chains hanging from the underside of the dome.

“And that? What’s that over there?”

“Oh, yes. I intended on telling you about that earlier. That’s the elevator which descends into the Vulcanix Underground. A very strange place, possibly the strangest in Eldritch.”

“Did you say ‘Vulcanix?’ That doesn’t infer that this underground is…well…volcanic?”

“Regrettably yes. There is a huge volcano several miles from here, but it has been extinct for eons. Not only that, but the dwellers of Vulcanix also help to maintain the volcano.”

“Who are these ‘dwellers,’ father?”

“Mostly trolls.”

“Trolls! Really, father?”

“Yes, really. As I said, Eldritch is different from the mortal world. There are many people and creatures here that don’t exist in the other world. But I still understand this is your first day here, Edgar.”

“Are we going to visit Vulcanix, father?”

“Not today, son. The trolls are usually undisturbed by creatures from outside their world, human or fairy. Someday, perhaps. I’m sure that their leader, King Otar, has heard of your coming. Word travels quickly in this land.”

Edgar was still staring at the gaping hole with great curiosity and uneasiness. There could be so much to see down there, and yet, perhaps so much danger…after being a slave to an evil entity for so many years, he decided it would be best not to risk his skin. At least not this time.

Suddenly Edgar became aware that his skin was prickling with some sense of fear. He felt he was being watched. Slowly turning his head until he could see over his shoulder revealed nothing at first, nothing but a small clearing fringed with a high stubble of scratchy briars and long dead trees.

Then he saw the eyes. They were peering out at him from within the tangle of branches. They weren’t a sickly green color like the eyes he had glimpsed in the courtyard of Etheria, in fact, these eyes were very different, indeed. They were small, round and yellow. The pupils were small black slits that were fixed upon Edgar not with an expression of evil, but rather an interested, almost curious expression. Even though the eyes were clearly animal, they seemed almost human…

“Edgar! Come on, your mother won’t like us late!”

Turning his head, Edgar nodded and continued walking toward the chariot. Then a thought resurfaced in his mind. “Uh…father?”

“Yes, Edgar?”

“I think Count Tsepish said that a fairy’s powers can be dormant for a time, but eventually be revived. Besides strong emotions, are there other ways to revive magic powers?”

“Why yes – an individual can be trained to focus his powers or even teach himself his own way. There are several methods.”

“Well…do you think you could teach me to use magic?”

Oberon looked surprised. “Already? On your first day here? You should enjoy yourself, Edgar. There’s no reason to begin such a complex…”

“I didn’t mean the whole entire thing,” explained Edgar. “I meant…perhaps you could show me just some minor tricks…what I did with Necromancer I did without knowing. I’d like to learn to be in control of my powers.”

Smiling, Oberon patted his boy on the shoulder. “I’m sure a few simple exercises wouldn’t be too much for you. If you want to learn, son, I will teach you. When we get home I’ll start to – as the humans say – ‘Show you the ropes.’”

Oberon then climbed into the swan. Smiling with excitement, Edgar followed, and the great bird rose off the ground and soared up and away from the dreary, dismal land of Ooga Booga. Count Tsepish and his wife waved after them, and shortly after the swan had vanished, the two people and the large black dog went back into the large mansion, closing the door behind them. The dark stallion stayed outside, nibbling the dry grass at his feet.

The black cat emerged from her hiding place in the brush, peered up at the sky for a moment, then blinked her small, yellow eyes and began to walk down the path that led to the south border of the land.

Chapter 8:

The garden Edgar and Oberon had left only a few hours ago was one entirely different from what met their eyes now. The field from which the swan had taken off was congested with fairies and other creatures, dancing, talking and drinking from goblets filled with sweet nectar. The air was buzzing with dragonettes and occasional birds and there was absolutely no way Edgar could see to land the swan.

“I think we have a problem here,” he muttered.

“I would think so. Those revelers aren’t going to get out of our way that quickly either. I believe there is an alternative to landing and getting out of this chariot than on the ground.”

“Ah…what do you mean by that?”

“I’ll show you.”

The swan drifted closer to the island, above the trees and bushes that framed the small meadow. Then it slowly began to descend.

“Hey!” cried Edgar. “I thought you said we couldn’t land there!”

“We aren’t going to land.”

“Then how…” Edgar stopped talking and decided to just figure the mystery out on his own. As the swan sank lower and lower, several of the fairies noticed it and darted out of the way or stepped aside. Still, when the swan stopped descending at about ten feet above the ground, there was a patch of land only five feet across.

Edgar was trying to figure out what was happening when his father suddenly stood up in his seat, walked to the right side of the chariot, and leapt over the side.

“NO!” Edgar screamed. He nearly choked on his own voice at the same time, because instead of falling, his father was drifting – falling so slowly that his robes were hardly stirred. He landed lightly on the grass below, then turned around and looked up at the chariot, beckoning to Edgar.

“It’s all right!” he called. “It’s so basic, it’s nearly instinctual! Just try to visualize yourself falling so slowly that you can hardly feel any movement! It’s all right! I can stop you from falling if you do!”

Edgar was shaking with fear as he approached the right side of the chariot and looked over the side at his father and several other fairies that were watching him. His feet felt frozen to the floor.

“Don’t worry! Strong emotions induce magic precipitations, Edgar! Remember? Just step over the side! I promise, you won’t fall!”

Unable to ignore the desire to prove himself to his mighty father, but still rigid with anxiety, Edgar slowly put one foot up on the edge of the chariot, then, with a move very similar to the one he had mounted Necromancer with, he swung his leg over the side, and both his feet were touching nothing. Nothing but air. His heart was pounding against his ribs, his breath had nearly stopped…

…And he was floating. Floating gently down, towards the ground where his father awaited. His body felt weightless and free, it was a feeling he had never felt before, like so many of the other feelings he had felt during this day. But this was made by magic. His magic. His powers had not been drained. He was just like the rest of the fairies here, with fire in his body and potentials to do things that would amaze a mortal. He was above humans, above…

Then he remembered the one human whom he still could not forget. The golden-haired girl who came to Tamir from another place. The one who had practically restored him to his true form…Edgar’s heart filled with shame. Where does a fairy who loves a human belong? How can he be a normal person?

Then his feet touched solid ground, and the heaviness returned to his limbs. His father was congratulating him on successfully making a dismount from the air, then turning and commanding the swan to go back to where it came from. Then he asked the large group of fairies to relocate to another location so that he and Edgar could be in the field alone. Slowly the mob filtered out, leaving Oberon and his son together. Edgar looked out across the field and saw the beautiful fountain with the climbing vines, filled with pale red roses. His spirit ached with the memory of Rosella, and he silently prayed that he would see her again. Someday.

Oberon called his son to his side.

“Edgar,” he said, “This is an ideal place to practice. There is no one else here who could be at risk, should you make a mistake.”

“Ah…what would a ‘mistake’ be described as, father?”

“Well…” said Oberon, stroking his beard, “I would guess the most common one would be…”

“Forgetting to let the student’s mother watch him?” asked a voice from behind them. The two men turned around and saw Titania standing at the end of the garden path, leaning against a tree.

“Titania, dear…I’m sorry. I thought you were busy preparing for Edgar’s celebration…”

“I was – until the other fairies told me you were back. I was going to welcome you back until I overheard you two talking about practicing magic.”

“Yes. I was going to teach Edgar some basic skills in this meadow. It’s safe enough, no?”

“All right, Oberon. But no turning trees into stone or anything like that.”

Oberon smiled at his wife. “Never in my life, Titania.” Then he suddenly noticed the lines of worry in her face.

“Titania – dear, what’s wrong?”

Titania sighed and replied, “It’s just Malicia. She’s been becoming more withdrawn every day. I took her to get something from the laboratories and when I reached the top of the stairs, she had vanished. I think she’s mastered magical teleportation.”

“Well, this does sound a little ominous – but let’s not talk about it right now, Titania. I promised to teach Edgar some basic magic, and we’d best get started.”

“Later, then, Oberon? Please talk with me about it soon.”

“I will. After Edgar and I finish practicing.”

He turned back to Edgar and gestured for him to walk to the periphery of the island, where the border of purple rocks lay.

“You see, son, one of the most basic abilities of magic users is that which enables the individual to levitate small objects. It generally requires little practice and is easy to master.” Kneeling down, Oberon placed the palm of his right hand over one of the rocks. Edgar also knelt and carefully observed what his father was doing.

“It is not all that different from the magical force which allowed you to float down from the chariot. You just need to visualize the rock being light enough to float. This takes time, as you may guess. More experienced workers of this magic can levitate objects from great distances using only their thoughts, but for beginners, direct touch is much better.”

In the silence that followed, Edgar watched his father intently, observing his brow furrowed in deep concentration, eyes locked on the stone which his hand still rested on. Several moments passed, and the quiet was so thick Edgar could almost hear his father’s heartbeat.

Then Oberon raised his hand, so slowly it barely seemed to move – and the rock rose beneath it. Withdrawing his hand, Oberon silently kept his eyes fixed on the suspended stone as he spoke to Edgar, who was watching the stone as if it was an eye of a dragon.

“Once you feel the lightness come, you have to lift it from its heavy moorings. It will follow your hand until you stop raising it. Now you can control the stone this way.”

Oberon extended his hand towards the stone, which gave a sudden jerk and raised itself to the same level his hand was at. He moved his hand to the right, and the stone moved to the right. He moved it left, and again, the stone followed. He moved his hand backwards and the stone floated towards him. Oberon then stopped the movement of his hand, and the stone did the same.

“You see how simple it is?” he asked Edgar. “Well, like many things, it isn’t as easy as it looks, but it isn’t that hard either. It just goes wherever you want it too. And when you want it to return to the earth, simply touch the ground with your hand and it will become heavy once more.

“Well…are you ready to try it?”

Edgar was silent as his father lowered the stone and set it back among its brothers.

“You can do it, Edgar,” Oberon said. “Here, try this one. It’s small, but well formed. Try to raise it. I know you can do it.”

“Come on, Edgar,” called Titania from behind them. “I truly want to see you try, at the very least!”

“She’s right, Edgar,” said Oberon. “At least try, son.”

Edgar looked at the stone his father was pointing at apprehensively. He knew this predicament was his own fault; it was he who had requested to learn the basic skills. Would he have to go through all this nervousness and anxiety with every lesson, though?

It’s just raising a rock into the air, he told himself. No big deal. Just a simple, magic…oh boy…

Chapter 9:

Reluctantly, Edgar placed his palm on the stone and fixed his eyes on the purple textured surface. He tried to visualize the stone feather-light and hovering in midair like his father’s. At first, he felt nothing, but then, a sensation of warmth and light reached his fingers. It felt as if his energy and thoughts were flowing from him to the stone. Edgar felt almost as if he had become part of the rock. His thoughts felt different, almost uncomfortable.

He was seized with an instinct to let go and throw them back out, but he realized this was probably just one of the challenges magic working posed. He still held his trembling hand over the stone, the feeling in his hand becoming stronger and hotter, until it had reached a peak so hot he felt like collapsing, but then suddenly, the sensation vanished. His hand felt normal -- or more normal than it was – but the stone beneath his fingers definitely did not feel normal.

It did not feel normal because it was pushing against the underside of Edgar’s hand. Slowly he lifted his hand, and the rock, as if were attached to it by a thread, followed. He stopped raising his arm, and the rock also stopped, suspended beneath. He moved his arm back and the rock remained airborne. It was floating. He had done it.

“Edgar, you did it!” cried his mother, clapping her hands.

“Don’t let it fall,” warned his father, as the rock started to wobble. Edgar turned his attention back to it, and the wobbling ceased.

“Now try moving it,” said his father. “You’ve done very well so far. I’m proud of you.”

Edgar experimented with moving the rock left and right, backwards and forwards, and even in wide circles. He tried moving his hand faster, and the rock still kept aligned with it, except it covered several more inches before coming to a complete stop.

Feeling the he had mastered the movement basics while sitting down, Edgar decided to try controlling the rock standing up. He carefully rose to his feet, holding his arm straight out in front of him. The rock still stayed afloat. Oberon rose to his feet and stood back to give his son more room to experiment.

With slow, graceful, sweeping movements, Edgar propelled the violet-colored stone through the air, moving it in wide, gentle arcs, zigzagging turns and even figure eights. All the time, even though he was playing, Edgar quietly reminded himself that he was lucky. He was lucky to still have the magic he was born with, lucky that he could learn to use it so quickly. But still he had to be careful. Magic could be very strong, and potentially dangerous. Anything could happen.

Then it happened. As he was halfway through another horizontal sweep, a rogue dragonette swooped so close to his face that it nearly grazed his eyelashes. Edgar sprang back in surprise and at the same time, swung his right arm sharply to the left in an attempt to drive the creature away.

Then it dawned on him that the rock he was controlling was out of control. He spun around in the direction where his arm had swung. What he saw almost made his heart stop. The stone, which before seemed so small and harmless, was now hurtling like a cannonball towards the very thing he prayed wouldn’t be in the rock’s way.

The fountain. The fountain with the pool of roses. The only physical thing that reminded him of Rosella. It was going to be destroyed. As Edgar watched this imminent catastrophe, time seemed to slow down to crawl, just as it had when he first met his parents and they were telling him how he was the Prince of Etheria. He also seemed part of this stretched phase of time; his feet reacted sluggishly as he tried to move them.

The rock was slowly spinning over and over as it careened through the air, only a few yards away from the fountain. Not even aware of what he was doing, Edgar flung out his right arm, his hand pointing at the rock as if to call it back. All this happened so slowly it seemed like a dream. The stone kept on going, but then…

There was no explosion. No flash of light or boom of thunder. Not even a tremor in the ground…but the rock had vanished. It seemed to have disappeared into a puff of smoke, leaving no trace that could be seen. Finally, time started to get back up to speed. Breathing slowly and heavily, Edgar heard his father’s voice cutting through the silence:

“That was truly remarkable, Edgar. That was a disintegration spell that came to you, I believe. Your raw instincts seem very strong within you, son. That is a trait that not many fairies possess.”

Still standing with his arm outstretched, Edgar lowered his hand, turned, and walked over to his father.

“You mean that happened spontaneously? It wasn’t part of the spell that made the stone levitate?”

“No, it wasn’t part of the levitation spell. It was a different spell entirely. As I told you before, when strong enough emotions enter the mind, magic can be worked instantaneously. It is never as reliable as magic learned through practice and patience, but it can do many things.”

“I see…”

“That spell could have been very dangerous, too, Edgar. It could have blown out a side of another island, or even backfired and come back at us. That was a rash move on your part, son.”

Edgar humbly looked at his father, his face resembling a guilty dog’s, and it even appeared that if his ears were capable of flattening against his head, they would be that way now.

“But you didn’t do any of those things. It was a mistake, and you can’t blame those dragonettes for being mischievous. You did well, Edgar, and I congratulate you on that.”

“Thank you, father.”

“And there are many other basic spells which can do amazing things without the caster even knowing it.”

“Such as…”

“Well, there is another spell induced by strong emotions that can make a person disappear from one location and reappear in another.”

“You mean teleportation?”

“Yes, Edgar,” replied Oberon.

“But just where will the person reappear?”

“It depends. If the individual’s mind is focused enough, he can envision a place he’s been before, a place he would much rather be. But if the mind is too snared in raging emotions to focus, the thought of anywhere but the current location of the person is enough to trigger the spell.”

“That sounds like a risky venture,” muttered Edgar.

“True, but some people can get themselves in such scrapes…especially humans.”

“They can’t do these spontaneous ‘emotional spells,’ can they, father?”

“With practice, yes. But to fairies it comes naturally, and it can be done irregardless of the individual’s awareness of it or not. Some people will do anything to get to a place other than the one they are in.”

“I don’t think I’d ever want to leave here,” Edgar remarked.

He looked over his shoulder at the fountain. It was unscathed and unaffected by the disintegration spell he had inadvertently cast, still flawless and as beautiful as ever. Edgar felt relieved that it still stood, as the memory of Rosella remained in his mind. He turned back to his father and smiled.

“I think we should be heading back to the courtyard, Edgar,” said Titania. “Elfreda has been working as hard as she can to make this celebration perfect, but she still needs some advice from you. And you should be present at this great solemnization, son. It is in your honor, after all.”

Turning her back to them, she began to casually amble her way along the long path which led back to the castle courtyard. Oberon continued on after her, with Edgar trailing behind.

Chapter 10:

The dark-haired woman ran her pale, translucent fingers over the grotesque stone figure. It wasn’t all that menacing, but it definitely gave the observer no feeling of joy whatsoever. It was hard to tell what beast the carver of the creature had been inspired by. The statue was a combination of features from many different animals.

The deeply lined face was almost human, except for the bull-like horns protruding from its bald skull, the slit eyes of a serpent and the large tusks which jutted from its thick-lipped maw.

Its body was like a demon of the Underworld, spindly yet muscular, posing in an alert sitting position. The four, clawed fingers on each of its hands were interlocked around its knobby knees. Sticking out of its sharp shoulder blades were two webbed, sinewy wings, so sickening in appearance that a bat’s looked beautiful in comparison. The protrusions also had clawed “thumbs” at the wings’ apexes, contemplating the rest of the creature’s ghoulish appearance.

The woman pushed her long, black hair away from her pale face and gazed at the demonic stone statue with an almost motherly smile. She had envisioned its form for months now, and finally she had channeled her thoughts into a physical object. Through all the days it had squatted silently in this cavernous room beneath the Castle of Etheria, she had never forgotten to dare the perilous, winding stairs that spun down into the dark chamber to visit her own creation, to admire it, pick spiders out of its ears and peel stray cobwebs off its wings.

For many days, it had remained stone, inanimate and frozen, despite the visions she had of its potential powers. And now she possessed what she needed to awaken the beast. She held it in her left hand, within the leather pouch her sister had so foolishly shown and given to her, out of one of the dustiest, most rotten cabinet in the least used laboratory of the castle.

The woman smirked in delight. How clever she had been to wait until her sister was nearly to the top of the stairs, then vanish with her prize clutched in her fist! And reappeared here, right where she could begin. Her reign in the shadows of others would soon be over.

But first things first…she needed allies…others that would help her take revenge those who had scorned her and admonished her. And now she had allies – they were waiting, unseen on the outer isles and in the densest of the clouds. Unless…

“Celadon!”

”Yes, O high and mighty wingless fairy of Etheria…”

“Do not call me that! I warned you, Celadon…”

The verdant, scaly imp-like creature sticking its large-eared head out of a large crevice in the adjacent wall nodded vigorously, its ears flapping like large leaves.

“Many times, yes.”

“Listen, you little ividjur: are the Creatures of the Underground in their positions on the periphery?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“The flying ones in the cloud banks?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“They will be able to attack the main island several seconds after I give the signal?”

“Oh yes, swifter than bats they are! They will be on the main island as quickly as…”

“Never mind! Just tell them to ready themselves for this evening. Much will be going on tonight, Celadon.”

“Yes, Lady Malicia, ma’am.”

The creature pulled its head back into the narrow crevice and vanished. Malicia examined the beautiful, stone beast composed of her own thoughts once again. It seemed to remind her of the stone demons placed on the rooftops of castles, guarding their domains from evil spirits. Gargoyles, they were called. And this creation of hers looked very much like one.

Smiling slightly, Malicia reached into the leather pouch she held in her left hand and withdrew some of the glistening, fine white grains from within it. Carefully moving her hand over the inanimate statue, she tilted her palm ever so slightly, allowing several thimblefuls of the grains to rain down on the statue’s stone skin. The granules exploded into minute puffs of powder when they hit, briefly enshrouding the figure in a cloud of dust. Then the cloud cleared, leaving the gargoyle looking no different than before.

Then, a small pebble fell from the creature’s ear, as if it had moved on its own. Then there came a grinding of stone on stone, making the earth vibrate beneath Malicia’s feet. She closely examined the beast and was nearly ecstatic with delight to see the thin inner eyelid of the creature’s left eye move across its blank, stone cornea and retract. Then the outer eyelid closed and reopened, staring into Malicia’s own eyes.

“Well, my little pet,” crooned Malicia, “You’ve awakened at last. Perhaps you would like more life to come to you? You will need a lot of strength, for tonight is going to be a big one…”

Edgar leaned against the parapet of the highest tower, looking out across Etheria, now golden in the late afternoon sun. He felt a little drained from all the magic he had experienced that day, and even more drained when he realized the day wasn’t yet over. A precession of footsteps made him turn his head.

A young woman, nearly as tall as he was, stood under the archway. Her skin was a delicate green and her hair was black as a moon-less night. She had large eyes and small, tapering fingers and hands. She wore a white silk robe, Grecian in appearance, and a light silk scarf was draped over her pointed shoulders. It was Titania. Queen of the Fairies. Wife of Oberon. Edgar’s mother.

“Edgar, son! You haven’t changed your clothes yet!”

“Huh?”

“This is your celebration, but that doesn’t mean you should dress like a human! Elfreda and several other fairy seamstresses have made many lovely robes and cloaks for you, and are open to your own ideas.”

Edgar glanced down at his outfit. He had a beige cape fastened around his neck with a gold buckle, a peach-colored tunic with matching boots, and a pair of beige pants to match his cape. It was what people of Tamir, royal or otherwise wore. That was what Genesta had told him.

He looked up at his mother again. The clothes she wore made her look like a Greek goddess. It was the same for his father. Edgar didn’t think of himself as a god. He was still attached to the human world, and to one person in particular, who probably wouldn’t want to see him wearing a toga.

“Well, Edgar?”

“I’m sorry, mother. I don’t think I’m ready to move into this new style yet. These clothes I have on I grew up with – well, not really, just this style – and I’m still trying to adjust to this new life I suddenly have to live. So if you don’t find it too embarrassing, I’m going to wear what I have on now during the festivities.”

Titania looked ready to say something, but she pressed her lips together and remained silent, her eyes looking behind Edgar, into the distant skies.

“All right, Edgar. I think I understand. Just make sure to clean your face before coming down to the ballroom.”

“Yes, mother. Thanks.”

Smiling at him one last time, Titania turned and walked down the hallway, her robe flowing behind her. Edgar gazed after her for a while, leaning casually against the side of the tall archway. A small swarm of dragonettes appeared, hovering before him, singing their strange, yet soothing melodies. Just as Edgar was breathing in the sweet song, the tiny creatures scattered at the sound of a loud racket coming from down the hall. A small, wild-haired elfin creature scampered past Edgar’s boot, followed closely by another even smaller one with huge ears and feet, both squealing in excitement and both wearing clothes made of dried leaves and moss.

After the two pixies were out of sight, Edgar straightened up and started to walk down the hall after them. He still didn’t know his way around the castle, a giant anthill-like place webbed with passages and doorways everywhere, but he figured that if one kept on walking, eventually he would arrive at the great ballroom, the largest room in the castle which connected to the courtyard.

Yeah, Edgar thought. I’ll get there soon enough.

Just after the words had formed in his mind, he arrived at a large pair of double doors, made of oak with elaborate hinges of gold and silver, crafted to resemble stylized oak leaves. These were the doors that opened to the top of the main stairway junction, with one major staircase leading down to the ballroom. The very place he had been seeking. Edgar placed his palms on the hard wood surface, swung the doors open, and stepped through.

Chapter 11:

The ballroom was swarming with fairies, literally in some cases, as some winged ones occasionally darted around the room in small numbers. Some of the more human fairies who were probably favored subjects of Oberon and Titania stood on the steps of the main staircase, conversing and laughing with each other. As Edgar silently descended the marble stairs, they turned from their conversations and bowed to him, greeting him by his formal title. “Prince Edgar.” It still was new to him and made him almost embarrassed to be called by it.

As he was placing his foot on the last step of the main stairway, the pale aquamarine fairy named Elfreda moved her way through the crowd of fairies and stopped before him.

“Prince Edgar, you have come! I am honored to greet you, good boy!”

“Thank you, Elfreda. It does look very beautiful in here. You’ve done an amazing job.”

Elfreda smiled bashfully, her long, pointed ears flattened back against her head. “It was mostly your mother’s doing, young sir. Do you want me to lead you to them?”

“If that’s the safest way through this mob, yes.”

With a light laugh, Elfleda reached out her hand and Edgar took it. It did feel like the texture of a leaf, yet alive with much energy, probably not much, since Elfleda appeared quite old, but still pulsing with young life.

The fairy guided Edgar through the maze of people, often being greeted or saluted by a single person or a couple. It was some consolation that they also greeted Elfreda, but only as “Elfreda.” Even though she seemed so close to his parents, Edgar decided she either must not have much need for a title or didn’t play a large role in serving them.

Finally, after exceedingly endless minutes, Elfreda stopped before Oberon and Titania, who were standing near one of the rounded walls. Bowing to each of them, Elfreda stepped back a couple steps but still stayed near them.

“Edgar, how nice to see you, son!”

“Yes,” seconded Oberon, lowering his goblet of nectar. “How nice to see you in your…” he looked over Edgar for a moment, “…new clothes.”

“Now, Oberon, I told him it would be all right to wear the clothes he had on, since they aren’t atrociously dirty. And this is his first day back with us.”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Edgar,” said Oberon, patting his son on the shoulder.

“That’s all right, father. I just felt more comfortable in these.”

“Quite all right – Oh. You may leave, Elfreda.”

As the pale blue fairy was turning to leave, Edgar said, “If it isn’t too much trouble, I would like it if she stayed with us.”

Elfreda turned around and faced him. “You like my company, Prince?”

“Yes. You have been very friendly to me, Elfreda.”

“As well she should be,” said Titania. “I told you she was to be your nanny when you were a child, and later your tutor. She has a broad knowledge of this world of Etheria.”

“But what about the human world?” Edgar questioned.

“I am unfamiliar with that domain, young Edgar, sir. I have never been there, let alone lived upon it. You are…disappointed?”

“No – actually yes. I am…a little.”

“Glad I am you are honest,” purred Elfreda. “I henceforth shall try to learn all I can about the human world to teach Prince Edgar.”

Edgar almost laughed aloud. “You don’t need to, Elfreda…”

“I will anyway.”

“I’m sure we can discuss scholarly matters later,” said Oberon. “We had best introduce Edgar so the whole assembly is aware of his presence.”

“Do we have to?” Edgar asked.

”It is customary for royalty,” said Titania, taking his arm in hers. “Including human royalty. It will be all right. We just want to let them know you are here.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Edgar allowed himself to be led through the crowds of fairies again, being greeted by the fairies they passed, this time all four of them. They finally reached the staircase and climbed it until they had reached a spot halfway to the top, then turned to face the assembly.

“Fairies of Etheria and elsewhere,” announced Oberon in his deep voice, at which all the fairies fell silent and looked his way. “Titania and I are honored to introduce to you the one thing we have been longing for all this time, that which was taken from us eighteen years ago, and who now stands with us once more. Ladies and gentleman, our son, Prince of Etheria, Edgar!”

There was a resounding applause from the audience, many fairies waved in greeting and several of the goblins threw their woolen caps in the air, sometimes missing them on the way down and sc