The Immortal Realm Read online

  Rathina was sitting on the polished top of the balustrade, picking pieces of dove gray gravel from her hand and idly tossing them down the cliff face into the sea. She looked at Tania through a veil of windblown hair. “You are my sister,” she said with a slight shrug. “What else would you have me say?”

  Clusters of hanging crystal tubes chimed together in the breeze, filling the air with a gentle bell-like music.

  “I am so sick of feeling torn apart,” Tania said heavily. And that was not the worst of it; she ached for Edric. It was so hard to make this impossible choice without him, and yet she had seen nothing of him since he had left Cordelia’s chamber yesterday. She had no idea where he was or what he might be doing.

  The love of her Faerie parents and of her sisters meant an enormous amount to her—but their love was a comfort that came from outside. It had always felt as though somehow Edric’s love warmed her from deep within.

  She remembered something he had said to her once: that home for him was wherever she chose to be. She lifted her fingers to the black onyx pendant that he had given her. It hung from a necklace woven from the hairs of a unicorn’s mane, slender as light, finer than silk. A token of his love—of his undying love, he had said.

  So where’s that love now, Edric?

  If she chose to live in the Mortal World, would he still want to be with her? Would he take her hand and be led into permanent exile? Did she even want him to make such a sacrifice?

  Tania had tried to explain details of her old life in the Mortal World to her sisters. She had hosted show-and-tell sessions with them—bringing things through from the Mortal World to intrigue and amaze them. And she had tried to explain other stuff like movies and recorded music and iPods and the Internet. Airplanes, cars, trains, skyscrapers.

  Sancha and Cordelia and Zara had been to London, so they understood some of these things, but Rathina found everything about the Mortal World strange and compelling. Tania could still remember Rathina sitting on her bed in the Royal Palace, turning Tania’s debit card over and over, trying to grasp its purpose.

  Tania walked to the balustrade and leaned against it, turning to gaze up over the garden. She spotted a shell picture that she had not noticed before. It was of a small unicorn trotting along with periwinkle shells hanging from its silvery horn.

  “Percival…” she murmured. “My pet unicorn, Percival, is buried there.”

  Rathina stiffened at her side. “You remember him?”

  Tania nodded. “I read about him in my Soul Book.”

  “Ahh.” Rathina sounded disappointed.

  “No, you don’t understand,” said Tania, excitement growing in her. “I read some stuff about walking along the beach with him when I was young—but I never read anything about what happened to him.” She looked at Rathina. “I never read that he died and was buried here.”

  “What did he die of, Tania?” Rathina’s voice was urgent. “Think now.”

  Tania struggled to beat down the locked doors in her mind. “No,” she gasped. “I don’t remember.”

  “Southern unicorns only live for three years,” Rathina said.

  “He died of old age—of natural causes,” Tania blurted. “I cried for days and days.” She began to speak ever more rapidly. “And…and Hopie said I should be given another unicorn to take his place, but Mother said no—because they live such a short time and she couldn’t bear to see me so unhappy again.” She turned to her sister, her eyes wide. “Rathina—I remember all that. It came to me out of nowhere. I remember!”

  “What else?” urged Rathina. “Do you remember that song we used to sing, ‘The Ballad of Perfect Love’? You would play the lute and Zara would play the spinetta and we all would sing.”

  She began to sing a simple melody.

  “And he shall wear a crimson cloak

  His hair shall be black as the raven’s wing

  And he shall ride a tall white charger

  And he shall have hawthorn spurs upon his

  heels.”

  The words of the next verse flooded Tania’s mind and she joined in.

  “And he shall laugh and take me in his arms

  And my head shall lie upon his shoulder

  And he shall smell of woods and wild things

  And he shall kiss my forehead and smile

  “And we shall live in a tower of gray stone

  And he shall never, ever leave me

  And he shall call me his beloved and bow

  And he shall fight dragons for me.”

  Rathina jumped from the balustrade. “Your memories are returning at last, praise the good spirits!” she cried.

  But Tania shook her head. “They’re still only bits and pieces,” she said. “Just…scraps. It’s no different than before. I remembered a song the very first time I was here—I sang it with Zara—but there was nothing else.”

  “Yet every new memory adds a thread to the tapestry of your past,” Rathina said. “Have patience, Tania; you shall come back to us.”

  Tania looked at her. “But that just makes it harder,” she said. “The more I remember of my life here, the harder it is to decide what to do.”

  “Do not attempt to decide alone, Tania. There are many here who love you, who would help you with the burden you must bear.”

  Tania gave a bleak smile. “Yes, I know—and I know what most of them would say: They’d tell me to stay here in Faerie.”

  “Is that such bad counsel?” Rathina asked softly.

  “Ask my mum and dad back in London that question,” Tania said.

  Rathina frowned deeply but said no more.

  Tania gripped her hand. “I need to be on my own for a bit,” she said. “Is that okay?”

  Rathina nodded. “It is. Go. Think. Decide.” Rathina’s fingers wrapped firmly around Tania’s. “But remember what I asked of you, sweet sister: If you choose to go to the Mortal World, take me with you.”

  “Yes,” Tania said quickly. “Yes—if that’s what you really want, of course I will.” She didn’t share her other thought. But if you think that going to the Mortal World will help you to outrun your bad memories, then you’re going to be disappointed. Tania ran up the broad steps and pushed through the door that led back into the palace. Crystal chandeliers chimed in the breeze as she closed the door behind herself.

  “Tania.”

  She spun around. Edric was standing against the wall behind her.

  “Oh! You startled me!”

  He didn’t smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting to catch you on your own. You didn’t see me, but I was in an anteroom close to the earls’ chamber when you”—now he almost smiled—“when you made your grand entrance. You made quite an impression. I heard it all.”

  “So you know what’s going on.”

  “Yes. I know what’s going on.”

  Her mouth twisted. “Any helpful suggestions?”

  “Remember that Sunday afternoon when we watched The Wizard of Oz? What was it Dorothy said? ‘There’s no place like home.’” His eyes widened. “Close your eyes and click your heels three times. What do you long for? Faerie or London?”

  There was a pause, and Tania suddenly had the horrible sensation that Edric was moving away from her, that a gulf was opening between them—that if she didn’t do something immediately, he would be forever out of her reach.

  “You,” she whispered. “I long for you.”

  A look came over his face: a fusing, she thought, of love and desire and sadness and loss.

  She ran into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder, her arms tight around him. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry. Please—Edric—help me, please. Tell me what to do. I can’t stand it anymore.” The words came pouring out of her, and it was almost as if she was listening to someone else speaking. “I’ll do anything you want. I don’t care anymore. I’ll marry you if you still want me to. Let’s do that right no
w. Let’s get married and go right away from here—somewhere all on our own. Let’s forget everyone.” She lifted her head and looked into his face, so close that she could feel his breath on her skin, see her smoky reflection in his chestnut brown eyes.

  “You don’t mean that,” he said gently. “The thing about getting married and running away. You don’t really mean that.”

  “Don’t I?” She blinked tears away, squeezing him fiercely in her arms till she heard him gasp for breath. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I love you so much.” She looked deep into his eyes.

  He didn’t reply. She pulled away from him, looking searchingly into his face.

  “Edric? Are we okay?” she asked.

  He swallowed. “There’s something I have to tell you,” he said.

  “That sounds ominous,” she said uneasily. “It can’t be that you don’t love me anymore. Rathina told me all about falling in love here. Once you’re in love, you’re stuck with it. So you’re pretty much stuck loving me, Edric—no way out of that one!”

  “Tania—stop!” he said.

  “No, no, you’re going to tell me something unbearable. I know you are.”

  The Queen and Hopie and Sancha all have the plague.

  Oberon is too exhausted to keep the Gildensleep working; everyone is going to die.

  “I have to leave here,” Edric said.

  This was so unexpected that for a few moments Tania just stared at him. “What do you mean? Leave here? Leave for where?”

  “For Weir, for Caer Liel.”

  “What do you want to go there for?”

  “Lord Aldritch has called me into his service,” Edric said. “I am to return to Caer Liel with him when the business of Conclave is finished.”

  Tania stared at him in disbelief. “And you decided this when?”

  “I didn’t decide at all,” said Edric. “My family have always been bondsmen to the lords of Weir. I hoped that Lord Aldritch would release me from my duty to his House—but he’s ordered me to return to Weir with him.”

  “I’m sorry—ordered you? What gives him the right to order you to do anything? And even if he does think he can give you orders, you don’t have to go along with them. Tell him to get lost. You don’t owe him anything.”

  “I owe him my allegiance, Tania,” Edric said. “I have to do as he commands.” A kind of forlorn hope came into his voice. “But I may be gone only a short while, possibly only a few months. I’ll do everything I can to get him to release me—and then I’ll come back to you.”

  “And what if I’m not here? What if I decide I want to spend my life in the Mortal World?”

  Edric didn’t reply.

  “Don’t do this, Edric.”

  “I must.”

  “Even if it means us never seeing each other again?”

  His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. It’s my duty. I have no choice.”

  IX

  The streets of Rhyehaven were deserted. A few fearful faces watched from shuttered windows or peered out from between the slats of bolted doors, but most of the inhabitants had heeded the warnings of the King’s wardens and had shut themselves away when the delegation from the palace had walked through the town to the harbor.

  They stood now on the quayside. Silent. Waiting.

  Tania and Rathina were standing side-by-side at the water’s edge, slightly apart from the other lords and ladies of Faerie.

  Lord Aldritch was at the head of the gathering, clad in a black cloak lined with sable fur. Edric stood attentively just behind him, also now dressed in black. He glanced toward Tania for a split second, then looked away again, his face emotionless—unreadable.

  I’ve lost him, Tania thought. Lost him forever.

  As though sensing her pain, Rathina slipped her arm into Tania’s. Tania gave her a bleak smile, glad to have her sister close.

  All the Earldoms were represented in the welcoming party, all save Mynwy Clun: Valentyne could not come to greet the Healer and Eden would not leave his side a second time. Earl Marshal Cornelius represented Oberon. The King had also remained at the palace; the need to maintain the power of the Gildensleep consumed all his energy. Titania and Hopie and Sancha had stayed there as well, watching over the sick and the healthy, still searching for a remedy to the plague, unwilling to cease their labors until the Healer made landfall.

  Tania gazed out over the sea, trying not to think of a future without Edric.

  “He comes!” Aldritch’s voice cracked the pensive silence.

  Tania saw a masthead beyond the breakwaters coming in from the west. A bright yellow pennant snapped in the wind. Yellow sails glided into view. A subdued murmur ran through the crowd as the Healer’s ship rounded the stone breakwater and sailed into the harbor.

  It was a schooner, skimming the sea under full sail, its wind-stretched canvas as yellow as the sun, its hull slender and graceful as it clove the foaming water.

  A strange joy came into Tania’s heart as she watched the bright sails being reefed. She hadn’t known what to expect of the Healer from Weir—something dark and maybe a little sinister, perhaps? Black robes and stern faces hidden under deep cowls.

  Ropes spun out from the ship and wardens ran to catch them and secure them to stone bollards. A gangplank was run out onto the quayside.

  Lord Aldritch stepped forward as a man appeared.

  Tania almost smiled as she looked at him: He was tall and wide-shouldered, dressed in a simple yellow robe tied at the waist. He had an ageless face with a high forehead and deep-set emerald eyes. His hair was tawny and hung about his shoulders. A thin white band circled his forehead and in its center was a bright blue stone that flickered like sapphire flame in the sunlight.

  “Well met, Master Hollin,” called Aldritch. “You come in good time to our aid.”

  “’Tis hoped so, my lord,” replied the Healer. He paused at the head of the gangplank, his head turning slowly as he looked from face to face. Tania thought she saw a slight frown pucker between his eyes when his gaze fell on her, but it happened so quickly that she may have imagined it.

  Rathina’s voice whispered to Tania. “I had expected someone…I cannot say…darker, mayhap, coming from Weir. This man seems filled with sunlight. ’Tis a good omen, I am sure.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Tania.

  Hollin walked down the gangplank to the quay. He came briefly to one knee before Lord Aldritch. “My lord.”

  “Rise, friend,” said Aldritch. “There is much to be done.”

  More men now appeared on the ship, the Healer’s acolytes, their tunics and leggings a fresh leaf green. They began to walk down the gangplank. Tania noticed that they carried staves of white wood and that one had a fur bundle in his arms.

  “You are thrice welcome, Master Healer,” said Cornelius, coming forward as Hollin got to his feet. “Our need is very great. Will you come with us to the palace?”

  “In a moment, with your leave, my lord,” said Hollin. He turned and gestured to the man carrying the fur bundle. “First I would lay a blessing on the voyage.”

  The man crouched and carefully spread the bundle. Tania moved in closer. The bundle was an animal skin and gathered in the center was a collection of colored gemstones.

  Hollin knelt and picked a browny green stone, touching it to his forehead then placing it on the ground. “Agate for the earth,” he said. He picked another stone: creamy white this time. “Quartz for the air.” He laid it next to the first. Two more stones joined them, one red and one blue. “For fire and water,” Hollin intoned. He passed his hands over the four stones. “Earth, water, fire, and air. I place the four paradigms of the unanswerable riddle upon the white bull’s spotted hide. Bless this time and bless this place and bless all my actions.”

  Tania held her breath, half expecting something magical to happen, but Hollin simply got to his feet and gestured to the man to put the stones back into the skin.

  “Have you seen anything like this before?” Tania
whispered to Rathina.

  “Nay, never,” her sister said. “’Tis most curious. What can it portend?”

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  “Take me to the sick,” said Hollin. “I would begin my work.”

  Cornelius and Lord Aldritch led the delegation as it made its way solemnly through the rising streets of Rhyehaven. Hollin walked between them, his head bowed as they explained to him their troubles. His acolytes trooped along behind, their staves clicking on the cobbles as they went.

  Tania walked alongside one of the men. “Did you have an easy journey?” she asked.

  He smiled and inclined his head politely.

  “We’re all hoping you can work miracles,” Tania added. “Is…um…Hollin good with miracles at all?”

  The smile widened for a moment then the man looked away without replying.

  Not too chatty, then. But so long as the Healer could cure the plague, she didn’t mind if none of them ever said a word.

  The Healer stood at the entrance of Cerulean Hall. The doors had been thrown open and the blue chamber glowed with the golden light of many floating cocoons. There were fifty or more patients now, all of them cradled in Oberon’s Gildensleep, their symptoms suspended just so long as the King’s mind held fast to the reins of his Mystic Arts.

  Titania pushed a stray lock of hair from her face as she approached, her expression resolute but weary as she greeted the Healer. “I am told you come from the land of Alba,” she said. “I would learn more of your life and of your travels when time permits.”

  “I will welcome such discourse, your grace,” Hollin replied.

  “My daughters have sought long for a cure without success,” Titania continued. “Neither book nor herb can offer us salvation. I fear the answer lies beyond our ken.”

  “Be at peace, your grace,” said Hollin. “I will do what I can.” He frowned. “There is much suffering here. The auras of these folk are cracked and bleeding.” A spasm of disgust twisted his face, and he backed out of the doorway.