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“I have. Stunning. Impressive. I have half my Guard with me and we keep advancing in a northwesterly direction, according to your instructions. We’ve hit an exquisite light display in the sky, similar to the earth’s northern lights. Do you see anything like that from your vantage point?”
“No, but I suspect it has something to do with the power this field radiates. I wish I understood more about our myths. I’ll bet the answers to these phenomena show up in our oral traditions.”
“You’re probably right. So, what’s your plan?”
“To keep moving in the direction imprinted in my mind until we meet up. Just keep an eye on your map.”
“Will do.”
When he returned his cell to his pocket, he saw Batya shiver. Without giving it a moment’s thought, he pulled her into his arms then called for her satchel. As soon as she was bundled up in a warm coat, he ordered the brigade to move on.
He rose into the air, the brigade with him, and started across the vast Snowfield of Rayne.
* * * * * * * * *
With her head covered in a warm, furry hood, Batya savored the view as Quinlan flew her mile after mile across the snowfields. The vibrations soothed her and made her smile, even as the land sloped ever downward and the snow began to show more rocks and shrubs.
She realized she’d never been so happy in her entire life, a thought that startled her because it made no sense. After all, she’d just been through a series of harrowing experiences, including communing with the Dead Forest and watching Margetta and her force get blown clear across Grochaire Realm, over five hundred miles and then some. Yet, she felt content as though she belonged here, in Quinlan’s arms, speeding above a white expanse that glittered like diamonds, toward an unknown destination.
How was this even possible, first that she was here and secondly, that she was content?
She’d always preferred her independent, self-ordained path to anything so full of realm meaning and purpose. Yet here she was flying toward a place from her world’s myths called, Ferrenden Peace, a land supposedly ruled by a benevolent and very ancient virgin queen.
She wondered suddenly if that was exactly what they would find once they arrived, a strange kingdom ruled by a woman, also known to be an ancient fae called Rosamunde.
After another hour in the air, Quinlan drew his phone carefully from his pocket, a movement Batya sensed. He could easily upset their trajectory at this speed with a jerk of his wrist.
He’d already called Mastyr Seth twice before, each time checking to make sure that the enthrallment kept rolling back so that Seth and his Guardsmen would arrive at nearly the same time they did.
Quinlan slid his phone back into his pants pocket. We’re getting close, Cha. Seth has his map in front of him. He says the map reveals the border of Ferrenden Peace. He also said that another place name has appeared, the Kingdom of Peace.
No kidding. Then she felt it, a wave of sensation that brought her breath up short. I get it. She laughed.
What is it? He adjusted her again in the circle of his right arm, still holding her tight.
Ferrenden Peace and Kingdom of Peace. I think our language changed the name over the years.
Quinlan smiled as well. You may be right.
And I’m experiencing a new vibration, something euphoric and I think it’s coming from the town itself. You should slow down now. We’re less than a mile away.
I see it. A wall of some kind. Mist maybe.
Right, but the town beyond is lovely, the streets rising to the crest of a hill, the castle on top. Sweet Goddess, this is a fairy tale.
All I see is the wall. He slowed down and after another quarter mile, came to a stop, dropping to stand on a cobbled street lined with trees and grass. “Is this the entrance?”
She didn’t respond at first. So many sensations struck her at once, of awe and of great contentment, and of something like coming home.
Finally, she answered his question. “Yes, we’ve arrived. The gates are right in front of us, not thirty yards away.” She stepped out of the circle of his arms and advanced forward, Quinlan moving to walk beside her.
“Guards,” she called out to the two men posted at either side of the massive, black spiral gate. She sensed the power of the wrought iron, that the gate in one sense was purely ornamental. The mist would hold intruders out. No one simply flew over the gate into Ferrenden Peace. Admittance must be granted.
“Yes, Mistress. How may I help you this fine October day?” She smiled because he sounded like her father. Davido often used expressions just like that. The Guardsmen wore a uniform similar to Quinlan, except with a black leather beret angled over their heads.
“We request entrance. I am Batya, sired by Davido, The Great One, and this is Mastyr Quinlan, ruler of Grochaire Realm.”
At her words, the mist rolled away from the gate and a soft exclamation rose up from the brigade ranks because now the kingdom was visible to everyone.
“You are welcome to enter, Mistress Batya. Indeed, you are expected. Queen Rosamunde gives you and your entourage, full access to our town.”
Her first instinct was to explain that Quinlan and his Troll Brigade were hardly her entourage, but Quinlan gave her arm a squeeze, then thanked the Guardsman.
The gate opened wide.
Once the entire force was inside the city gates, she glanced back and watched as the mist and gate both closed back up.
Quinlan explained that Mastyr Seth would be arriving soon.
The Guardsman nodded. “We are fully informed. The queen has foreseen your visit and all is prepared. Mastyr Seth will join you at the castle in due course. In the meantime, accept the queen’s hospitality. The Mistress of the Hall is here to settle all of you in proper chambers for the night.”
A tall fae, in flight, introduced herself as Gizelda, her ease in the air giving Batya a pang of envy. She explained that she had made arrangements to home-host the entire brigade and that the ladies and Quinlan would be staying at the castle. “If that pleases you, Mastyr Quinlan.”
“Very much so, thank you.”
“Then follow me through the town and when we are nearly at the castle, I’ll direct the brigade into the hands of my assistant, Myra.”
Once Quinlan had them in flight, following the elegant Gizelda up the main street, Batya shook her head over and over. Many of the realm-folk waved to them as they passed by. Flower baskets hung from beautiful black light standards, set at twenty feet intervals. Blue shutters hung beside most of the windows.
At an intersection, a cheering group of troll females, many with low-cut tops, waved and screamed. The cheers became a roar as the brigade moved by.
