The World Below, page 29
My mouth is running non-stop. It’s irritating Percival, but I keep going, unable to control my tongue. If only I hadn’t been so pigheaded about getting my own way, we would still be with Snake now. I’m sure Percival would rather be with him than me too, even if just to get a moment’s peace.
Although my mouth has been telling the world how I don’t need Snake, my head has been mentally shaking me. I am always so certain I am right. Why didn’t I just listen to him?
Now I am stuck in a world full of magic, and I know virtually nothing about it, or what creatures I might encounter. I’m only just realising how much I relied on his knowledge of this strange world I only found out existed last week.
Funny, in spite of his wealth of knowledge, I was quick to pooh-pooh his concerns about how our being friends, more than friends, would be viewed. I decided I knew best.
Perhaps I was lulled by a false sense of security with the Fieth family and the dance at the ball last night. It all seemed so normal, I had almost forgotten this is a different world, and we were to sent out on a dangerous quest.
Then Percival asked me if I was tempting fate by talking about things coming crashing out of the woods, and suddenly, I am now all too aware that I’m in a foreign land where I know none of the rules. For the first time in my life, I feel inadequate to face the challenge.
‘Are you all right?’ Percival asks me, his face contorted into what might pass for a worried frown.
I realise I have been silent, lost in my thoughts, and given my constant chatter up until now, he is worried.
‘I’m okay,’ I tell him, but I am not. Talking prevented me from thinking too much about… well, about everything. As we walk along in silence with only the rustle of the leaves and the twitter of birds punctuating our footsteps, I am forced to confront the demons lurking in my head.
Will I be able to find the middle of the minotaur’s maze without Snake? If I can’t, then my parents will be convicted. The farcical trial at the ball last night was enough to tell me the charges were trumped up, but that does not make them any less real. It will not make the punishment any less real either—Bernais will see to that!
The very same Bernais who railroaded me into this quest with Snake—perhaps to get me out of the way. Or does he have something more sinister in mind? Is he hoping I won’t return?
‘Bring it on,’ I say under my breath, checking Percival didn’t hear me. He is oblivious. He appears to be having another of his ‘moments.’ Ever since we entered the forest, he has been zoning out every now and then. At first I thought he was just blocking me out, but I think it might be something more than that.
‘Bring it on!’ I say a little more strongly, drawing strength from the words. In the World Above, muggers targeted me all the time. Some of those attacks were quite violent, and I am still here. I will survive this too.
I instantly feel better, in control again. Okay, it was Snake who pointed out my muggings were unlikely to be random attacks, but I was the one who fought them off. Snake is not here to educate me on the World Below, but so what! I have Percival, and Percival seems to know more about this world than he does.
Ah, Percival is my guide in the World Below. I wonder if he could tell me more about who I am? After all, it might help me understand why I’m in this mess.
‘Percival? Can I ask you something?’
There is no response.
I try again. ‘Percival, are you able to tell me something more about my family, like how I’m related to Bernais and Elias?’
I may as well be talking to one of the trees.
While I am waiting for him to come out of his funk, I decide to go over what I already know. I am a Princess of Royal Blood—whatever that means. I also know that since arriving in the Seelie Court of the World Below, I’m the only elf I’ve seen with dark skin—apart from my father, that is. And I also know that many in the World Below believe my father is not part of the court.
Wind sweeps some strands of hair across my face, and I tuck them into my loose plait as I walk. I want to know about Bernais and Elias, but I also want to know why my father seems to be an outcast, and does that have anything to do with why my parents never told me about my heritage?
Percival is still lost in thought, but around midday we stop by a clear blue stream to get a drink and fill our water skins. He appears to be a little more aware, so now is as good a time as any to question him.
‘Percival, you’re here to help me understand this world, and I think it might be helpful for me to know a little more about my family, especially how I am related to Bernais and Elias in particular.’
Percival stretches in an almost feline way before pulling a comb from his pocket and tiding his already immaculate hair. When he is satisfied with his appearance, he answers.
‘I am here to help with the quest only, but… as those two are part of why you are undertaking this particular folly, I think it might be all right to answer you. Can we walk as we talk? I would like to be out of these woods as soon as possible.’
He has not looked comfortable since we started walking under the trees. I would say he looks pale, but I am not sure whether that’s his normal colour or not.
‘Are you all right? You seem… um… unsettled. Is there something I can do to help?’ I ask.
He pauses, his comb halfway back in his pocket, and regards me as if he is seeing me for the first time. I don’t think he expected me to notice his unease. He slowly shakes his head. ‘You cannot help me. It is just the woods. I will be better when I am out of here.’
He slips the comb fully into his pocket and we start out again.
‘They are not your close relatives,’ he starts. ‘Bernais and Elias, I mean. Their mothers are cousins to Queen Ariana.’
He walks ahead a little. Is that all he is going to say? I catch him up.
‘That still doesn’t explain why Bernais appears so set against me, while Elias isn’t,’ I point out.
He humphs. I mean, literally humphs. Who does that?
‘Elias was always sweet on Princess Petunia, the second daughter of Queen Althea. She chose to marry another, and he left the Capitol soon after. He was only recently recalled by Queen Ariana to take up the role of Chancellor. His absence from the political arena for all those years left him rusty. He is still finding his feet. If he remained at court, maybe he would have been better placed to keep you out of things.’
Well, that’s an interesting tidbit, but it doesn’t explain Bernais. ‘And Bernais? Why does he hate me?’
Percival shrugs. ‘I suspect he does not hate you personally, but rather, he is set against those of the old Queen’s bloodline. You see, Queen Althea did not have Ariana until late in life, so her niece, Bernais’s mother, was named heir.’
I can see a pattern here. ‘So, when Althea had a child that changed?’
‘Yes, and Bernais was not happy about his loss of status. Then, some years later, when Princess Petunia, Ariana’s younger sister, was born, Bernais was no longer considered to be of Royal Blood. Bitterness at his loss of station has taken over his life since then.’
‘I think I heard someone say Princess Petunia is the current heir, is that correct?’ I ask.
‘Not exactly. There was some… well… some horridness about who her friends were, and she was banished. Queen Ariana has no children, and did not remarry after her husband died, so….’
‘So events created a power vacuum, and Bernais sees himself filling it?’
Percival nods. ‘Precisely, although I am sure there is more to his machinations than that.’
‘Of course there is,’ I mutter. Percival has given me quite the history lesson, but at least listening to him is better than listening to the demons in my head. ‘Carry on,’ I urge as I almost trip over Percival.
He has stopped in his tracks, as if frozen in place. I step forward to see what happened to him, only to be encased in some sticky substance that prevents me from moving. I can’t even open my mouth to voice my frustration. My heart is pounding and fear washes through me. Give me an opponent to fight and I’m fine, but being trapped like this… it’s mind-numbingly scary.
We stay locked in place for goodness knows how long. My fear builds and my mind imagines all kinds of bloody and murderous ends for us. The air is turning cold when a woman appears on the path.
Wrinkled beyond imagining, wearing a long skirt and blouse of good quality but well-worn fabric, she cackles like a witch as she moves closer. My heart pounds in my head. This is it. This is how it ends, and I can’t even use my get-out-of-the-maze-free option.
‘In a bit of a bind, are we?’ She laughs at her own joke.
My fear turns to anger. I would say something smart back, but I can’t move my mouth. I can’t even clench my fists to release my frustration.
‘Ah, Percival, it is a long time since you visited these parts.’ She steps past him and stands in front of me. ‘And this must be Princess Priscilla. Such a pleasure to meet you.’
The woman snaps her fingers, and my eyelids begin to droop. If my life is about to end, I want to face it front on. As I try to fight what is happening to me, my head starts to swim and my vision clouds. Try as I might, I cannot keep my eyes open, and I am soon sinking into an inky blackness.
My brain sends a message to my eyelids to open, but they are still heavy with sleep and magic and refuse the command. Listening to my surroundings, I try to sense whether or not I am in any immediate danger. I try to move my arms and legs, but they are heavy, like a weight is pressing down on them. I freeze in panic. Am I still bound by the spell?
Keeping my rising fear at bay, I force myself to concentrate to try and work out where I am. Apart from crackling, which I assume to be a fire, everything is quiet, I can’t even hear birds singing. Wherever I am, I think I am alone.
I roll over and manage to half open one of my eyes to find I am lying on a bed in a simply furnished room. Opposite me, a fire warms the cosy space with comfy chairs sitting on either side of the hearth. In the centre of the room is a well-worn wooden table with a chair at each side. To my right is a door, and to my left is a bench under a window.
I wait for my head to clear before I open both eyes, swing my still heavy legs around, and place my feet on the ground. Pushing myself up, my legs are stiff but I’m able to stand. I’m not woozy, so I’m pretty sure the crone didn’t drug me.
I make my way across the room, and then I fling open the door. Instead of the expected escape route, I find a wooden bench with a hole in it. I lean over and peer down. The depth of the hole and the smell tell me this is what passes for a toilet.
Back in the room with the door securely closed, I frantically search for another way out. I rush to the window, pulling and pushing against the frame, but it doesn’t open. There’s no other door to be seen. I am trapped unless I want to smash the window.
‘Please do not break my window.’ The voice comes from all around me, and soon after, the woman from the forest appears in one of the chairs by the fire.
She waves her hand, and a pitcher of water appears on the bench, and a bowl of apples and pears materialises on the table. With a click of her fingers, a cast-iron pot places itself over the flames of the fire, filling the room with a juicy, meaty aroma.
‘Come sit, child.’ The woman gestures with a hand to the chair opposite her.
I eye her warily. What does she want with me? The tale of Hansel and Gretel floods my mind. I was terrified of that story as a child, and my knees tremble now. As I am trapped in this cottage in the centre of a strange wood. Has she brought me here to end my quest?
‘I’m okay,’ I say.
She smiles as if I amuse her. Perhaps she read my mind. ‘Please, you will be more comfortable if you sit while we talk. Besides, if I meant to harm you, why would I go to the trouble of providing you with food?’
To fatten me up before eating me.
I consider the stew simmering over the fire. Or maybe she intends to poison me.
I sigh as I realise the true meaning of the food. I am going to be here for some time. I continue to stand as a sort of protest against the idea, then I reconsider. I want to leave here, and she is the only one who seems to be able to come and go, so I need her goodwill.
‘Excellent,’ she says when I lower myself into the seat. She folds her hands in her lap. ‘Now, you can go no further in the maze until you access your powers and show you can use them. The minotaur’s rules prohibit entry to the uninitiated.’
I grip the chair’s arms as my wariness turns to alarm. ‘What? Why didn’t anyone tell me this before?’
‘That is not my problem. My job is to check all those who come my way to ensure they meet the requirements of the quest and are able to proceed. You do not.’
I am frozen in place, my fuddled brain processing her words but coming up blank. The maddeningly calm creature sits in front of me, saying nothing. Is she waiting for me to speak?
‘Where is Percival?’ I ask, then mentally kick myself. I should be asking exactly what they need from me so I can get out of this goddamn prison.
She shrugs. ‘He is free to go on.’
Is this woman purposefully trying to irritate me? I narrow my eyes and study her closely. No. I think she is answering my questions and no more. I decide to test my theory and try a different tactic. ‘Are you going to train me to access my magic?’
She emits a tinkling laugh. ‘Oh, my goodness, no. I am only the gatekeeper. All you need to do is complete the training you began in the World Above, access your full powers, and you will be able to move on.’
She can’t be serious. I only just found out I had my magic. I can barely produce a flame, the simplest of spells. ‘What training?’
‘You can make a flame, can’t you?’ the old woman asks, a perplexed frown drawing her brows together. ‘Of course you must be able to. You got here from the World Above. To do that, you must have discipline, focus, and be able to access your magic. Someone must have at least trained you to do the latter.’
Snake helped me form my flame—well, Snake and some random cat.
‘You can access your magic. You just need to be able to figure out what the source of it is so you can learn to use it. Once you do that, you will be able to leave.’
She makes it sound so simple. I am not taken in. ‘So I stay here until I learn that, even if I take a week? Or a month?’
‘Oh no, my dear. I cannot let you stay in my home that long. You may stay two nights, then you must be gone.’
Surely it can’t be that easy. ‘What? So all I need to do is wait two nights, and then you will let me out?’
‘No, dear. Either you use your magic to let yourself out before your time is up, or I use mine to expel you from the maze.’
I knew it had sounded too easy. So now, not only must I work out why members of my own family hate me, but I also have to learn how to use my magic and control it enough to get out of this prison. I curse my parents for keeping me apart from my true heritage. My life would be so much easier now if they had just fessed up. As it is, I don’t even know where to start to figure out the origins of my power.
‘Can you at least tell me what kinds of magic elves can use?’ I ask, suddenly feeling very meek.
‘Well, I do not normally do that… but I cannot see how that breaks the rules. It should be all right.’
My eyebrows raise. ‘There are rules to this?’
The old woman frowns again, ‘Of course. Rules govern everything in the World Below.’
‘Sorry. Everything here is so… so alien to me.’
‘Of course it is, my dear. In the World Below, we recognise four different types of magic: earth, air, physical, and particle.’
I am no better off knowing what they are. ‘Can you tell me what each of those do?’
‘No.’
‘Sugarcoat it, why don’t you?’ My tone is harsh and sarcasm taints my words. The woman flinches, and a thread of remorse trickles through me. No, I will not feel sorry for her. She has trapped me here, and getting a straight answer from her is like wading through treacle.
‘Can Percival help me?’ I ask.
‘He cannot come in. Whether he waits for you or not is up to him. He is free to wander the maze and can come and go as he wishes.’
My head is spinning. Is there anything else I need to ask to make sure I don’t find myself unceremoniously kicked out of the maze? While I marshal my thoughts, the woman decides she has said all she is going to and blinks out of sight.
‘What the…?’ I jump to my feet. ‘I can’t believe this place.’ I pace in front of the fire. ‘I’m supposed to figure out how my magic works while stuck in a room with no one to help.’ I spin on my heel and walk the other way. ‘And if I don’t, this is all over, and my parents will pay the price.’
I continue pacing for a bit longer, spiralling into my anger and muttering to myself. Pausing in front of the fire, I watch the flames for a moment. Being angry isn’t helping, but I can’t seem to calm down. I walk to the window and stare out at the trees.
‘It is not going to help you, all that ranting,’ a voice says from beside me. ‘You need to be calm when you use your magic, or it will get out of control.’
I swivel my head, looking for the source of the advice. Glancing down, I strain to see. The angle isn’t great, but I just make out Percival, who is sat leaning against the house, reading a book. In front of him is a blazing fire in a pit. Behind that is a tent erected with a camp stretcher set up inside.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask, speaking more loudly than normal so he can hear me through the window. ‘And where did all this… stuff come from?’
‘I have made myself comfortable while I wait for you to find your magic and use it to release yourself,’ he answers as he pushes himself to his feet, walks around the fire, and places the book on the bed. He returns and stands in front of the window so I can see him better. He doesn’t explain the source of his comforts, but that is the least of my worries.
