The War of Odds (21 page)

The woman’s voice sounded like the screech of an off-key violin. In fact, William’s fiddle suddenly let out a discordant wail, as if in sympathy with the hag’s vocal chords. The ancient one lifted her head, and Sara saw that her eyes were as dead and blind as marbles. Her nose was as gnarled and twisted as a dead branch and every inch of her flesh was as warty as a frogs hide. Her toothless mouth fell open and her long pointed tongue quivered in the air, like a worm in early morning sunlight.

“Who goes there?” she croaked.

Sara kept her head down. She knew, somehow, that although the old woman may look and talk like somebodies elderly Aunt Sally; there was more- much more- to the figure who queried them now.

Even Rondel looked nervous, but he spoke with calm authority. “My name is Rondel and this is my sister, Rowena. We travel with Onio, First Son of Bouldar’s Clan and his tribe mates, Pike the dwarf, William the bard, Pollo the sprite, and his friend Hissaphat, along with three young humans. We are making our way to Timaron’s court. May we apply for safe passage?”

The hag turned her crooked proboscis toward the teenagers, “Humans? There are humans in my cave?” At these words, Gwyn let out another shout of sorrow. The elves, the dwarf, Nate and the Sasquatches slowly started backing away from the hag. Within moments, the girls found themselves staring through a thicket of feet and legs.

“Yes, Cerridwen, forgive our impertinence, but these humans are very special. We believe they can help stop the war,” Rondel replied softly, although there was an edge of steel now, in his words.

Cerridwen
, Sara thought back on her lessons with Muriel,
the goddess of the underworld- a shape-shifter, and the mother of fertility.
 
What would this powerful goddess want with them and why was she as ugly as sin? Sara remembered learning that Cerridwen was as beautiful as a summer’s day and fought over by kings of the underworld.

The old woman snarled, “It has been long since I feasted on human flesh. I thank you for bringing them to me, elf!” The king let out another wail, and the Sasquatches hefted their clubs and spears.

Rowena started to string her bow, but Rondel put his arm out to arrest her movement. Smiling, he turned to Cerridwen again. “Mighty witch, you never eat children, human or otherwise. Especially not little witches who only seek to help the fae in their time of need!”

Exasperated, Cerridwen rolled her eyes and plopped down on the stone bench. Handing the cup to the man, she muttered, “Oh shut-up, Gwyn. You’ll make yourself ill!” She snapped her fingers, and Sara blinked in disbelief.

Suddenly, the old hag transformed into a beautiful middle-aged woman. She had long, curly, light-brown hair and luminous brown eyes that shone with wisdom, and sorrow. She stared down at them with a half-smile on her face and said, “Well, get up then and let me look at you!”

Crisis averted, apparently, they all got to their feet. The goddess said, “Yes, you shall have safe passage, but first I would have you rest and take refreshment. I would like to study this young witch and hear news of this terrible war.”

She stoked her husband’s hair, while Gwyn wiped the tears from his face. “As you can see, this has been a hard time for us.
 
My husband and I represent balance in all things, life and death, light and darkness, fertility and stagnation. There is no balance now, and it causes us pain.”

“You shall rest here for a while, but before you leave for the Unseelie court, I would ask of you a boon…” she smiled, “after all, mayhap you will never come back out!”

She paused for a moment and sighed, “I would have you dance for us. My husband and I are very sad, and we could use a lift.”

Chapter 23

Sara and her friends stayed with Cerridwen and Gwyn for a couple of hours. An army of large, ugly hobgoblins served a sumptuous feast. The teen’s eyes grew wide as the fierce creatures came out from behind a rocky outcropping, bearing dish after dish of delicious victuals.
 
Usually, hobs were malicious and vindictive creatures that caused all manner of mischief in the human world, but these ones seemed gentle and kind. Nate stared wordlessly at Rondel who nodded permission. Faerie food could oft-times be fatal to human beings but this food, apparently, was safe for them to eat.

Later, after lunch was served, Cerridwen asked for a dance. Sara had never been much of a dancer, but the Sasquatches seemed pleased and excited. One of the Sasq warriors, named Heavy Rock, fished around in his pack and pulled out a wide piece of hide. Onio and the other Sasquatches unfurled the leathery membrane and stretched it across the adjacent walls in one corner of the cave. Then, Heavy Rock took two sticks out and started beating on the taut skin.

Within moments, percussive drumbeats filled the chamber. Sara’s toes tapped, the queen smiled and even her gloomy husband sat up straight and grinned. Chloe shouted, grabbed Nate’s hand and pulled him into an impromptu dance. William placed his fiddle under his chin and the instrument sang out a song that was so haunting, so primeval, Sara understood that this music was the voice of Earth herself, wailing both in joy and in sorrow for the things that had been, and things that were yet to come.

Pollo and Pike joined hands and leapt around in circles, laughing, while Hissaphat purred violently. Sara eyed William, who swooped low and jumped high, all the while playing the violin that both blessed him with magic and used his frail body as a source of power. She hoped that the musical instrument knew when the strain was too much for the old man to bear.

Suddenly a large hand grasped hers. “Little human, will you dance with me? This is a song of my people… a song of strength and perseverance.”

Sara stared up at Onio and stuttered, “Okay, but I’m not a very good dancer.”

He grinned and said, “You don’t have to be!”

Then she danced with the faerie folk, the Sasquatches and her friends, in a deep, underground tunnel of the Unseelie court while war waged in the Seelie lands and the human realms above, and here in the Unseelie lands beneath the ground. It was cathartic though and Sara realized, suddenly… necessary. Glancing to her left, Sara saw her friend, Chloe, take Cerridwen’s hand and coax her out to where the others danced.

The queen laughed, nodding, and turned around to coax her husband into the song, when suddenly the most horrible sound imaginable filled the air. The drumming stopped and William’s fiddle choked in mid-note and died. Sara and her friends stared about in horror as Cerridwen dashed a tear from her eye. William groaned and muttered, “Oh no…”

All of the fae dropped their eyes and shuddered in despair as once again, Gwyn, the king of the hunt, hunched his shoulders, shaking with grief. Even the mighty Sasquatches were subdued. They quickly rolled up the hide drum and stowed it away in their packs. William wrapped the violin in a soft cloth and went to stand next to the Sasq warriors.

Sara was astonished…what had just happened? Looking around for an explanation, the horrid, wailing cry filled their ears again. Cerridwen helped her husband to his feet. She had taken on the form of the old crone again, for some reason, and hobbled carefully by Gwyn’s side.

She stopped and called out, “I am sorry but our time together has come to an end. My husband and I go to hide now, and we bid you farewell.” She paused for a moment, studying their faces, carefully. “For all I know, the banshee wails for me or my husband, but, just in case, I am very sorry for your loss.” Then, Cerridwen pulled her husband away into another deeper part of her cavern home.

Sara understood, suddenly. She remembered how much she hated her lessons with Muriel, the wood nymph. Not only were her studies physically and emotionally exhausting, Sara had thought, at times, that her mind might crack with the strain of having to learn so much in such a short time. There were hundreds, possibly thousands of faeries in this world. All of them were different, with varying degrees of power that depended upon which element they served…air, water, fire or earth.

One magical creature stayed the same for all beings, though, and was influenced by nothing and no one. Whether human or fae, Seelie or Unseelie, fire elemental or water faerie, the banshee wailed for the dead. The problem with a banshee’s cry was that the death she warned of was unstoppable. There could be no bargaining with this faerie, or stalling the inevitable.

Nate and Chloe, apparently, remembered their lessons as well and walked up to where Sara stood with solemn, fear filled faces. The party was over and the companions gathered up their gear. Within moments, they were walking through Cerridwen’s cave and into a new tunnel. They stopped, though, and turned around when they heard a shout from behind them.

A hob stood with two huge, slavering black dogs. They were hideous, with glowing red eyes and jaws that bristled with fangs. Their hides were scarred and steam puffed from their nostrils. Nate pushed the girls behind him, drawing his sword but Rondel said, “Be at peace, young warrior. These beasts mean us no harm, I think.”

Nate glared as the hob bowed low, shouting, “My lady sends her regards and aid for you on your journey. These are her two favorite pets, the Hellhounds, Borax and Flamelick.” The large goblin stroked his hands over the fur on the hound’s chests and one of them ran a long, red tongue over the hobgoblin’s bony claw.

“No one can know what is to come,” it continued. “But my queen hopes to keep, at least, some of you safe from harm.” With those words, the hob backed away and the two terrible dogs padded toward them. To her utter astonishment, Sara saw Hissaphat approach one of the frightful beasts and touch noses with it.

Rondel called out, “Please, thank your lady queen for us, Hob. This is a splendid gift, indeed…” The large faery had disappeared, however, and the two hounds moved toward the front of the line. Their ears were pinned back on their heads in concentration and their nostrils quivered inquisitively.

Nate murmured, “This place is just…amazing.” The minstrel agreed and moved to walk in front of the girls. The girls took their places by Nate’s side, but he shook his head and added, “Please, move ahead of me, okay? I’m going to take up the rear.”

Sara and Chloe nodded, and moved ahead of their friend. Sara wondered about the young man she had fallen in love with. His face was grave and tense with worry. She had no doubt, whatsoever, that he would fight to the death to protect her and the others. With a shudder, she wondered, yet again, if Pollo and the witch, Muriel, had chosen wisely, when they picked her to help heal the faerie king, Timaron.

She gulped in fear. Which one of them was going to die today? Would it be her, or one of the elves, or would it be Nate or Chloe, the old man or the little sprite, Pollo? She felt Chloe take her hand and glancing down, Sara saw that her friend was frightened as well. It was terrible
KNOWING
that someone was going to die and not being able to do anything to stop it from happening.

She sighed
. Oh well, there is nothing I can do about it. Also, I can’t let myself get too scared,
she thought,
or I’ll be no good to anybody when they need me!

The companions moved slowly through the shadowed tunnel. They walked without incident for about an hour, with only one stop. Onio held a hand up, looking back over his shoulder. The two Hellhounds turned around as well, their hackles raised and noses quivering in the air. The group paused, staring about with apprehension, and then the Sasquatch shrugged, turning forward again. Nate stared back from where they came for a moment longer and then followed his friends.

Gradually, the ambient green light within the tunnel turned orange, then red. Sara felt the air go from cool to hot and plucked at her shirt as sweat trickled down her chest. She noticed that the others felt the heat as well. Chloe, who was always cold, stripped her sweater off and tied it around her waist, as Hissaphat panted.

Rondel and Onio stopped, looking about warily. They saw a telltale flicker of firelight on the stone- walls and heard the sounds of anguished screaming coming from somewhere ahead of them in a large cave. There was no going back from whence they came, though, so the small army moved into a scene from the bowels of hell.

An enormous man stood in a pool of flame. He was about twenty feet tall and his skin was olive green, glittering with flecks of perspiration. He wore a long goatee and his black hair fell in braids over muscular shoulders and down his back. His chest was bare and he wore silk pantaloons, which shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. His wide, slanted eyes were as blue as sapphires and glared at the intruders balefully.