Wondrous Strange (13 page)

“H
erne was a mortal. A prince in the world of a very long time ago….”

Sonny’s voice echoing all around, Kelley bent low over her mount’s neck as the horse pounded through the trees and out into a wide-open clearing in the forest. As their horses cantered to a stop, she saw that they had become part of a hunting party, magnificently dressed and richly outfitted.

Kelley felt the rustle of silk and, looking down, saw that she was clothed in a russet gown that draped behind her, trailing over her horse’s back. The hems of her sleeves and skirt were heavy with gold-hued seed pearls and amber. She
looked over her shoulder—her hair was dressed with gossamer veils. At her side, Sonny was clothed in a flowing, laced shirt and supple leather breeches and boots. Silver flashed at his throat and wrists as he leaned from his saddle, reaching for the reins of her horse. He pulled them both to a stop at the fringes of the hunting party.

The rest of the hunters dismounted amid much laughter and merriment. Kelley stared in open amazement at them, realizing with a start that they were not human. Like clouds of brilliant butterflies, they shimmered and shone in the dappled sunlight. Some even bore the delicate traces of jewel-bright wings unfurling behind them.

Sonny chuckled at her expression as he swung a leg over his mount’s flank and dropped lightly to the ground. He reached up to help Kelley do the same, steadying her as her feet touched down on the mossy sward. She looked up into Sonny’s eyes and saw the wonder in her own reflected back at her.

“How…,” she began, but turned at the sound of deep, booming laughter. It came from a tall, handsome man clothed in deep green and bearing the horns of a king stag on his bright helmet.

“That is Herne the Hunter,” Sonny murmured in a low voice shaded with reverence. “The Faerie Folk call him the Horned One.”

“I thought you said Herne was mortal,” Kelley whispered back.

“He is…at least, he
was
. At this point in his life.”

Kelley understood then that somehow Sonny had conjured up a vision from Herne’s life, when the Hunter had been a prince. “And the Faerie don’t—didn’t—have a problem hanging out with him?”

Sonny smiled at her choice of words. “Faerie and mortal used to…‘hang out’ together quite a lot. In the days before mortals grew fearful.”

Isn’t that because the Faerie grew frightening?
Kelley thought as Sonny took her by the hand, leading her toward the center of the meadow, where fine tables laden with a fantastic banquet stood.

“Can they see us?” Kelley asked as they passed among the Faerie.

“No.” Sonny shook his head. “They do not see us as we are—because we’re not really here. They probably see us as companions of that long-ago day.”

“How are you—”

“Magic. Auberon taught me small things—party tricks, really, compared with what the Faerie can do—when I was a boy.” He shrugged. “Things like conjuring visions. I had a certain aptitude for it, although, I confess, I’ve never really tried anything
this
complicated before. Now come…let’s at least enjoy our time here while we can. This is not a story with a happy ending.”

About to ask him what he meant, Kelley’s breath caught in her throat at what she saw next.

How
, she thought,
could anything possibly go awry when
the world has such creatures in it
?

“Mabh!” Herne shouted in a joyous greeting, his voice filled with the unmistakable warmth of his feelings for the woman, flame haired and fantastically beautiful, who stepped out from beneath the shadows of the trees. “My Queen! My love…”

Kelley had never seen anyone with such fierce grace and majesty as the Faerie queen of the Autumn Court. Mabh was like all the poignant glory of the fall season distilled into a single being. She lifted her arms in welcome to the Horned One, and her smile filled the grove like sunshine.

Kelley forgot Sonny’s foreboding words. In fact, she forgot almost everything—she even almost forgot that she’d ever had another life—as day upon day passed blissfully in feasting and hunting and song. At night, Herne and his companions, Sonny and Kelley among them, would lie on richly woven blankets under the stars, listening to the crackle of the bonfires and the strange, beautiful music of the Fae. By day, they would ride through the forests at great, reckless speed, whooping and laughing in sheer delight.

It seemed to Kelley that time passed and, yet, time stood absolutely still.

Then came the day when Mabh, clothed in a midnight-hued gown and smiling a secret smile, bent to kiss the Hunter Prince’s brow as he lay on the mossy bank of a
spring pool, his head in her lap, smiling up at her. All about them, the glittering coterie of Faerie royalty—Herne’s hunting companions—lounged indolently, watching with idle amusement as the Faerie queen laughed and rose to her feet. With movements so graceful she seemed almost to dance, Mabh circled the pool. Lifting her voice in a chant of power, she pulled forth handfuls of glistening jet-black beads from hidden pockets in the folds of her skirts.

Propped up on one elbow beside Kelley, Sonny went stiff with tension, and she suddenly remembered what he had told her about this tale not ending well.

Her green eyes glittering, Mabh held both hands over the surface of the pool and, opening her fists, let fall the jewels into the spring. The surface of the water rippled and then boiled, foaming white and hissing steam. Rising to her feet and straining to see, Kelley glimpsed something moving in the inky depths.

A kelpie emerged from the spring, called forth by the chant of the Darkling Queen. Kelley glanced down at Sonny, speechless with apprehension, as Mabh cast her spell, enchanting the water spirit with her talismans, changing it with her magicks into a spirit of fire.

Sonny rose and watched with Kelley as the creature writhed and whinnied and blurred like smoke, transforming from something that closely resembled the sweet-tempered animal back home in her apartment into a ferociously beautiful
creature—a stallion with a coat as red as a sunset, and fiery, flashing hooves.

“My Queen,” protested one of the Faerie hunters uneasily. “This is an
impossibility
! It should not be—”

Mabh silenced him with a look.

Approaching her, Herne’s eyes lit with joy at the sight of his lover’s extravagant gift. The Hunter vaulted onto the back of the magnificent roan stallion. Mabh threw her arms into the air and laughed with an almost girlish delight as, together, the Hunter and his horse leaped into the sky, galloping swiftly over the treetops. In the forest glade there was a flashing blur of motion—like the beating of ink black wings—and Mabh disappeared. In her stead, a raven flashed through the spaces between the trees, following in the wake of the Horned One and his steed.

“This is unheard of,” murmured the Fae who had uttered the protest. “To bestow a gift of such extravagant and dangerous magick upon a mortal…”

“Mabh is besotted,” said the Faerie beside him, shaking her head.

“Oh, come! The Horned One is no mere mortal,” said another, laughing as he mounted his own horse, hurrying to follow in Herne’s wake.

Most of the other Faerie seemed to agree and, in a flurry of activity, swept forward to join in the merry chase of their mortal companion and his new prize. Caught up in the excitement
and not wanting to miss a moment of the story, Kelley lifted her skirt and ran for her own horse, Sonny at her heels.

The party galloped in pursuit of the Hunter. As the woods opened up into a wide expanse of rolling downs, all of the Faerie mounts leaped into the sky, their hooves pounding the air above the treetops as they took flight.

Her heart in her mouth, Kelley gripped the reins, white-knuckled, and hazarded a glance left and right. On either side of her, Herne’s hunters rode, starry-eyed and ethereal in their beauty, with excitement-flushed cheeks, streaming hair, and expressions uniform in their fierce elation. Kelley had never seen anything so glorious, never done anything so exciting as ride through the skies with that shining host.

The days and nights continued to pass in an intoxicating blur. Not only did Mabh give Herne the roan horse, she provided him and his companions with the most extraordinary quarry to hunt. The Darkling Queen commanded her minions capture Faerie beasts from her own lands in the Otherworld and set them loose to roam the forests of Herne’s mortal realm, all for the sake of her lover’s sport. Magnificent animals: stag and boar and bear.

And what had once been folly and fun soon became a pursuit in deadly earnest. The hunters became consumed, riding in the chase with the mortal prince and his fantastic
steed—huntsmen and -women, hounds and horses, riding with wild abandon above the forests of that ancient world.

The branches of the trees caught at Kelley’s silk sleeves as the hunting party thundered to a stop. They were at the edges of a forest glade where a pure white monarch stag stood defiantly, held at bay in the clearing by a ring of enormous hunting hounds. For three days, Herne had led the hunt in a mad, exhilarating chase of this regal quarry.

Kelley had been as caught up in the excitement as anyone, but now all she felt was a painful tightness in her chest. She watched helplessly as, urged on by his companions, the Horned One drew an arrow from the quiver on his back. Herne’s missile flew with deadly accuracy, striking unerringly, deep into the King Stag’s throat. The snow-white creature bellowed and fell to its knees, its blood flowing in a silver river down its hide to pool like molten metal on the grass.

The Faerie hunters cheered their prince’s triumph and two beautiful Fae rushed up to Herne, throwing their arms around him, even as the image of the dying stag almost broke Kelley’s heart. Beside her, Sonny made a soft sound of protest. Kelley looked over at him and saw his silver-gray eyes flash with anger and sorrow at the sight of the downed beast.

Kelley felt other eyes upon them and turned her head to see Herne staring at Sonny—and then, briefly, at her. The Hunter’s brow creased in a furrow beneath the rim of his bright helmet. After a moment, he smiled and turned
back to his companions, leaving Kelley to wonder what he’d seen.

Herne approached the body of the stag, stopping at a distance of a few feet. There was a long, stretched moment of silence in the forest, for even the birds had stopped singing. Kelley raised a shaking hand to her forehead and realized she had been clutching the reins so hard they’d left red marks on her palms.

Suddenly the animal twitched and shuddered where it lay upon the ground. The majestic white creature drew breath again and churned its legs, lurching back up onto its feet. The stag pawed the turf and shook its head. Kelley could scarcely believe her eyes. It was alive again!

The Hunter lifted his bow in salute, and Kelley looked over at Sonny, feeling the corners of her own mouth turn up in response to the wide smile that suddenly spread across his face as the stag bounded off into the forest once more, leaving nothing behind but a trace of silver blood on the grass.

The Faerie hunters cheered, and all was well. Herne turned back to his companions, flinging an arm over one of the beautiful huntress’s shoulders as the group burst into song. But from the corner of her eye, Kelley saw a blurring of darkness flash through the trees—a raven, flying off into the depths of the forest, its cry echoing harshly.

Later, once the sun had set, a great, lavish banquet was spread out upon a high hill. Herne was particularly merry that night,
calling for games and music; he was never alone, constantly surrounded by the shining Fae who doted on him. One lovely Faerie girl had removed Herne’s horned helmet and was weaving a crown of leaves through his hair as he laughed at a story another hunter was telling.

Over on the other side of the hilltop, on a wide stretch of flat earth, a furious game of hurling—something resembling field hockey but played with a silver ball and wide-bladed sticks made from polished oak—was being played at full tilt. Kelley’s untutored eye could discern few if any rules as the battle for possession of the shining ball raged between two groups of Fae. It seemed like gleeful, dangerous chaos to her, and she kept her distance. But she couldn’t help noticing how Sonny drifted over to the margin of the pitch to watch them play. His expression turned wistful, and Kelley guessed that he was thinking of his own childhood in the Otherworld where, no doubt, he had played this game or one like it.

Not wanting to intrude on his reminiscence, Kelley walked a little away from the revelers and stood at the edge of the hilltop. Looking down, she saw the lights of a small village nestled in the valley, bordered by the thick forest where they had hunted that day. The full moon illuminated the houses, and Kelley could just make out the figures of two villagers emerging from their cottage to peer up at the hill.
They can hear us
, Kelley realized, unsurprised, for the Fae’s laughter and carousing had reached raucous levels.

Kelley’s skin prickled, and she looked up, toward the horizon, and saw Mabh standing alone on a barren hilltop in the distance. The Faerie queen’s dark cloak spread out behind her on a cold wind as she watched Herne’s festivities from afar.

Anger, palpable as a thundercloud, gathered around her. In her fist, she gripped a slender, silver-tipped spear. But Kelley also thought she saw the Faerie queen’s shoulders hunch beneath her cloak—as though Mabh wept.

Kelley’s heart went out to her.

But as the dawn approached, her sympathies for the Autumn Queen vanished. As Herne and his hunters slept, full of meat and mead and sparkling Faerie wine, Kelley awoke from an uneasy dream to see Mabh stalking silently among her lover’s companions. Her lips moved, the breath hissing between her teeth, as she knelt down before each sleeping Faerie hunter, tying charms around their throats. Black, glittering charms.

Kelley froze, realizing the queen was casting a terrible curse as she wove a path through the sleeping Fae. Once she had passed, Kelley dared to sit up, and looked at the Faerie asleep on the ground. Horrified, she watched the exquisite beings amid whom she had been living change before her eyes—becoming terrible in their beauty. Dark. Dangerous. The queen’s magicks had transformed them; no longer carefree, they were cruel looking even in sleep.