The Golde Oak
DAPHNE
As we ride in phantom toward the stairwell, I marvel at the speed of winged fae as they flutter past. Klyesque rides at the forefront of our party and Magda and I bring up the rear with a few of the faeries on ponies in between.
It is a marvelous sight and one I don’t know I shall ever tire of.
This is my life now. My new life.
But… Isabel.
Diana.
I long for my sisters with a strength that threatens to pommel me into the ground, so I shake them from my thoughts, deciding for now, to focus on getting stronger. To concentrate on becoming someone worth reckoning with.
I will see them again. Both. I will.
Somehow I know it to be true. Despite that it is said none can pass to the valley before death, I aim to find a way.
Maybe once I’ve gained all my magics. Maybe once I have taken my throne.
The books sounds in my head, ”Clever you are, Daphne, daughter of Clayeira the Merciful, Queen of Hidden Fae.”
I speak back to her within the confines of my mind, my attention half on the clomp of Trielle’s footsteps and half on the rhythmic voice that plagues my mind. So there is a way.
”Perhaps. But it is an old magic and not a cheap one.”
Anything. I would give anything.
A low chuckle sounds in my ears, magic pulsing in my chest. ”I’d be careful. Promising things you know not of is always dangerous. We shall see.”
Smiling to myself, I catch Magda’s attention. She travels in a whirlwind of spiraling leaves, as fast as the horses that carry the rest and just as zipping as the winged fae that zoom down the tunnels.
“There are things I haven’t told you about the steed you ride upon, dear one,” Magda exclaims. “They were gifted by the Bastian, King of Shadow, to Ash, Prince of Smoke and Fury, some eighteen turns ago. But they have never been his. Always, they were for you. For even then he knew of your conception. Even then he awaited your return. They have many skills that only shadow royalty may command. Skills that even Ash was never privy too.”
“Skills?” I prompt her, my eyes going wide with wonder. “Skills like what?”
She smiles, wagging her brows. “You shall see once we have a moment to breathe, for we near the tunnel’s end. Look yonder, your people fill the cavern ahead.”
So they do. And with our approach, a low cheer rumbles through the cave, the faeries on foot dispersing toward each side of the sparkling emerald rocks and making way for me and my mount.
Treille slows as we trot toward a steep incline made from wide wandering steps toward what appears to be a solid ceiling.
“Wait, child,” Magda calls out. “Cloaking must be done first so that all that follow are hidden. Only I will remain visible, for my magic has already been felt and detected on the land. Should anything not supremely cloaked touch the Meadow floor… the false one… he will know.
“His stolen magics made it so. He - like Sylvie of Vael - was not born royal and all of his truly high magics were gained by his marriage to her, your mother. He is of the Woodland Realm, but not a born prince. Not a sovereign. And he has desired your power above all else these years. Had he found the Hidden Realm, he’d have sat upon the throne and taken everything from you before you were even born. Do not ever forget that. No matter what may come. Your magic, Daphne, it can never be his.”
“And it won’t be,” I say with a vehement promise, before I turn to face the hundred faeries at my back. “Know you from each other,” I tell them, “and follow the Woodland Witch from here on. For you will not see one another. You will not see me. Understand?”
A chorus of murmuring follows and I lock eyes with Klyesque, a silent plea passing from me to her.
Protect them, my friend. With your sword if you must.
She nods as if hearing me aloud and I smile as she travels toward the back of the party. Turning toward Magda, I ask, “How far to the gate?”
“Why not far at all, my dear,” Magda whispers. “For now is the moment of truth. Your arrival is long awaited.” She turns toward the group. “The Golden Oak lay but a few paces past this tunnel. Not but the distance of twelve men. You remember her, aye?”
“Aye!” comes the unified shout.
Magda smiles. “Then let us go to her now. And no matter what happens, no matter who is out there, make for the oak and do not stop for anything.”
A cheer goes up and down the tunnel as excitement fires to life and I pull out the book, holding it to my chest as I wait. The book whispers to me and I repeat the words as if they are my own.
“Place them behind the veil with me. Let none that seek our footsteps, see.”
One by one and gasp by gasp, every faerie disappears. Only then do we travel up and up and out into the realm.
A great big oak stands only yards away and Magda makes for it in a rush just as the ground quakes beneath our feet.
Magda snarls, “Dracuum Make haste!”