Mistfall (16 page)

As I reached for it, I noticed a tag attached
to it. I flipped the card over and read what was printed on it:
Do. Not. Lose. This. –H

“Consider me warned,” I directed to the sky
which rumbled in return.

Sword in hand, it adjusts itself to my size.
It’s feather-light and easy to maneuver with. I know it can slice
through the strongest steel like butter. What I was really looking
forward to was testing out some of the myths Hofuo was rumored to
be capable of.

The land I was standing on had died since
Brigid’s departure only minutes ago. What had been alive and
flourishing was now gone. The moss covered pathway that I was
standing on was the only sign of life left on this barren
plateau.

I didn’t know how much time had passed while
I was with Brigid. Time acted strangely around us Otherworlders. I
could only guess as to what it would do around the gods.

The sun was high in the sky, signifying
mid-day. Either time had stood still or days could have passed. At
least I hoped it was only days. Regardless, I was wasting time
thinking about it. There would be a feisty Ifrit to deal with if I
kept Hailz waiting too long, so on I went.

So, what did I learn from my audience with
Brigid? For starters, the Earth’s inhabitants were like Old Yeller.
We were the beloved childhood pet that had contracted rabies.
Unless we made a miraculous recovery, they would have to put us
down.

She mentioned Halloween. That wasn’t good. It
was now July, leaving just a few months until the now ill-fated
holiday. My guess was that Iblis or Abel would become the juiced up
gorilla that went on a rampage. They were the only two power
players in the world capable of it.

There was also the history lesson, or as
Brigid would call it, the good ol’ days. We all grew up with some
version of the stories. The lesson was always the same. We must
find a way to co-exist peacefully. Brigid could’ve just been
looking for a pity party on this point, but I doubt it.

As for Heimdall’s sword…I really, really,
really hope Brigid was just helping me to get home. I’m not
considering any other reason for having it. As a matter of fact,
that IS the reason she gave it to me. I was willing it to be the
reason.
Denial is also a river in Egypt.

I had been walking for a few hours since I
had tea with Brigid. The sun was still hanging at the mid-day
point. This wasn’t because of me either. Otherworlders can cause an
extra hour here or there, the Fae a few days, but stopping time all
together was impossible for us.

It seems that Brigid was buying me time I
didn’t need. The gods, despite all their glory and benevolence, can
really be a pain in the arse. They may think they’re being helpful,
but just end up complicating things. Their interference reminded me
of the tale of Celestine.

Celestine was the most beautiful girl in the
entire world. Being the daughter of a king made her an even more
valuable commodity. Poetry and songs spread the tale of her beauty
to the four corners of the earth.

Royalty and wealthy merchants came from far
and wide to ask for Celestine’s hand in marriage. Celestine may
have chosen a well-matched suitor had she been given the choice.
But it was her father, a greedy man, who chose her future
husband.

The king, looking to increase his wealth
through an alliance, chose Drago to wed his daughter. Drago was a
monster straight out of children’s nightmares. Tales of his abuses
were well known throughout the king’s lands. Celestine begged her
father to choose another, but he remained steadfast in his
decision.

Desolate and saddened by both her father’s
unkindness and the future that lay ahead of her, she went to the
local temple and prayed to the gods. She begged them to make her so
ugly that Drago would reject her and her father could no longer use
her as his pawn.

One of the gods heard her distraught
pleadings and answered her prayers. Celestine was turned into a
pig. Celestine was not expecting this kind of a change, though she
welcomed it nonetheless. A farmer found her leaving the temple and
took her home with him. The farmer was kind to Celestine. He
believed her to be a gift from the gods and planned to let her live
out her days on his farm.

A year after Celestine’s transformation, the
king’s men turned up at the farmer’s door. The king was celebrating
the wedding of his youngest daughter. He was looking for the
fattest, juiciest, best looking pig in all of his lands and heard
the farmer had just what he needed. The pig was to be the
centerpiece of the wedding feast.

The farmer had no choice in the matter.
Celestine would be taken by force if necessary. He reluctantly
handed her over to the king’s men.

Now, you’re probably thinking that once the
king saw Celestine he recognized her, the spell was broken, and
everyone lived happily ever after. Right?

Wrong. The next time the king saw Celestine,
he was sinking his teeth into her. And the little sister? Drago
married her. The End.

Gruesome story, I know. Willa had told it to
me to teach me the lesson of, ‘Be careful what you wish for’ (as it
pertains to asking the gods for favors). I didn’t eat bacon for
months after that, in case it was someone I knew. I was really
young at the time.

Personally, I blame Celestine. Had she just
ran away, married a poor man, and had a litter of kids, her body
would have turned on her from all that hardship and childrearing.
Problem solved. But nooooo. She had to run straight to the gods and
whined, asking them to do all the work for her.

Regardless, I had no intention of going the
way of Celestine. I could only pray that the gods wouldn’t try and
help me too much.

By the time I got down the other side of the
mountain I realized that I still had four miles to go. It was a bit
anti-climatic.

There were no villages on this side of the
mountain. The land here was wild and alive with Otherworlders.

I ate lunch, at least I think it was lunch
time, with an overweight Warlock. He had been out in the
countryside picking herbs for his stores. I found that my secret
existence was out of the bag. It turns out that the trees in the
Wildwood are horrible gossips. The Warlock went on to tell me that
my plight has become a rallying point for Otherworlders that were
tired of the corruption of Abel and The Powers.

He also mentioned that many Otherworlders
still taught their children the true history of the last war and
not the candy coated version Abel and The Powers called gospel. It
was a small act of rebellion on their part.

A rallying point? Talk about a lot of
pressure! I wasn’t looking to change the world, just survive it. I
didn’t correct him because it was good to have hope. Plus I needed
all the friends I could get.

Once our bellies were full, I thanked the
Warlock for his company and we parted. With promises of a safe
haven by the Warlock’s coven, I travelled on.

The rest of my journey went by quickly
without any further distractions. It had been peacefully quiet too.
That was until I approached the cave that was my destination.

I was a quarter of a mile away, yet the
bickering I heard carried clearly to where I was standing.

“How can you of all people say that?” It was
Melissa and she was arguing with John.

“My hands are tied,” he replied.

“Whatever, Pontius Pilate.”

I was relieved to hear their voices. There
was no time to think about it before, trying to make my escape and
all. They knew their attackers were coming, so I had no doubt they
escaped unscathed. But I have to admit, I was slightly worried
something bad may have happened in the explosion I heard the last
time I had talked to John in my dreams. Only a little bit
though.

Hailz was outside the cave mouth and noticed
me walking up.

“You do not want to go in there,” she warned
me.

I nodded. “I heard them as I approached. What
gives?”

“Too many chefs in one kitchen,” she replied
in annoyance with them.

Melissa and John were alerted to my presence
and the bickering stopped.

Hailz’s face contorted and lips puckered as
if she had eaten a lemon. “Awww, it’s time for the happy reunion.”
She turned and began walking away. “I have to go throw up somewhere
for awhile. I’ll be back later.”

John poked his head out as Hailz disappeared.
When he saw that it was me, he grinned from ear to ear.

“Hey you,” he greeted me before picking me up
and spinning me around.

“Hey yourself,” I replied and then shrieked
as I’m spun.

He stopped twirling me after a minute, but
didn’t let go of me. John held me tight against himself like he’d
never let me go. I didn’t discourage him and I myself hung onto the
moment as I long as I could have it. We weren’t home yet, I had
been through a lot, and this just felt right.

“Ahem.” Melissa interrupted after being
ignored for the last five minutes.

I lifted my head from John’s shoulder.
“Melissa!”

“Yeah, don’t mind me, I’m just chopped
liver,” she said rolling her eyes.

Alive and breathing, despite my worst fears,
she was a welcome sight.

“I laughed. “Of course you’re not chopped
liver. You’re fois gras any day.” I let go of John and pounced on
Melissa, hugging her.

Apparently she hadn’t lived in fear of my
demise. As happy as she was to see me, there were other pressing
matters at hand as far as she was concerned.

“So where have you been for the past week and
a half?” she demanded while extricating herself from my steel
grip.

A lengthy story, we sat in the grass, sunning
ourselves as I recounted the story. I spoke of the mountain
crossing and my meeting with Brigid.

Melissa shook her head, the sunlight glinting
off the shiny, honey-colored locks. “If anyone else had told me the
story, I wouldn’t have believed them. Though when it comes to the
absurd and highly improbable, you’ve got the market cornered.”

The subject then changed to the menial. She
told me that our neighbor, Old Man Tamblor had charmed his fence to
zap any wayward pixies the day I left. “Oh my God, that’s
horrible,” I told her before she mentioned the pixies had been
sending birds directly over his yard to “fertilize” it.

We spent the next fifteen minutes speaking of
the latest Fae fashions (always over the top), her recent lack of a
love life, and the state of things in the Otherworld.

John had spent the whole time inspecting my
new fancy sword, thus paying no attention to us. It was the human
equivalent of boys salivating over each other’s cars. Melissa took
advantage of his lack of interest and brought me up to speed on
what lay ahead.

“The Fae won’t open their doors again until
morning. Hailz should return with one of their elders. Once the
elder has approved of you, then we can go into the village,” she
informed me

“They have a real isolationist policy,” I
pointed out.

Melissa’s eyes narrowed as her lips turned up
in a wicked smile. She knew what she said next would irritate me.
“We’ve been invited to stay the night. There’s going to be a
wedding banquet to attend.”

My face fell. This is the last thing I wanted
to do. “Do we have to go?” I grumbled.

Sympathy quickly found its way onto her face
as she patted my hand. “I know you’re tired,” she consoled me, “but
a meal and good company is just what you need.”

She hadn’t convinced me. I was still looking
at her as if daggers would suddenly shoot out from my eyes and stab
her.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she assured me.
“Besides, when have you known the Fae to disappoint?”

She did have a point. When the Fae put on a
feast it was a bacchanalian smorgasbord. Your plate never empties
and the wine and mead flow freely. If it was a Fae only affair, the
night would end in a drunken orgy with moving lumps of flesh lining
the streets. When outsiders were invited, they left the sexual
feeding frenzy out, at least until their guests had retired for the
night.

John’s interest in Hofuo temporarily abated
he joined in on the conversation. “Yeah Violet, come on,” he goaded
me. “We should celebrate your new found freedom.”

I acquiesced without further whining. My
friends had rescued me. The least I could do was let them enjoy
themselves. I could wait another day to be reunited with my
favorite feather down pillow.

At some point in our talk, time finally
caught up. No longer was I stuck in an endless day. The sky glowed
orange and gold as the sun began its descent in the early evening
sky.

We had to find our dinner before it grew
dark. Melissa suggested John and I try and catch some fish. There
was a pond nearby she had found when they had first arrived
here.

Our trek to the pond was quiet and blissful.
John and I walked hand in hand in silence taking in the beauty of
the land. Trees were highlighted as if one of the gods had dusted
them with golden glitter. Large dragonflies, usually pixie
transportation, flew freely here, beholden to no one. The sound of
surrounding wildlife seemed orchestrated as it sang its evening
song. Frogs kept the beat as birds, locusts, and crickets sang the
chorus.

I gasped as the pond came into view. It
looked like it was straight of an idyll. Long grass leaned in the
slight breeze. Branches of Weeping Willows looked like fingers
reaching to skim the surface of the pond. Wildflowers peppered the
grass with whites, purples, and pinks.

I let go of John’s hand and ran as I spotted
the short pier. My shoes were off, feet in the water as John lazily
made his way to join me.

The coolness of the water soothed my tired
feet better than any peppermint lotion. I had walked quite a
distance in the past two and a half weeks. I closed my eyes as the
water healed and nature sang, enjoying the peace.