“No. I won’t go down there,” he replied, dicing up a thick beef steak and dropping the chunks into a frying pan.
“Why not?” she asked and noticed that his chopping suddenly became heavier, hacking hard into the chopping board.
“Something happened to me down there a few years ago. Frightened the life out of me. Almost died.” He paused chopping and stared into the pan with a vacant look.
“I used to be homeless. A ‘free man’ as I used to call it. One night the rain came down something terrible and I knew these houses were empty. So, I broke into the cellar to get out of it and stumbled into some weird ritual or something. Was almost killed in the bloody ritual too. If it hadn’t been for Bray and Diagus turning up when they did, I’d have been bled dry. They told me it was the rum I’d been drinking that saved me. Apparently, takwiches can’t possess a body that has alcohol in the blood. I Haven’t been able to go down there since.”
“That’s awful. But what’s down there now?”
Norgie shrugged. “Don’t know. The ritual opened a gate into the Shadowlands. It couldn’t be left open: you don’t know what might come through and the only way to re-seal it was to bless it with a fairy ring. I’ve never seen it myself but there’s fairies down there.”
“Shadowlands?” Elora set the knife down, not trusting herself to keep chopping when her mind was elsewhere.
“Aye. Between Earth and Thea there’s a barrier. Don’t ask me how it works or why it’s there - my mind isn’t built to understand the likes of other dimensions and things. But as I understand it, the Shadowland is another place that is attached to the barrier. A place that never sees the sun, where even time has no effect. Apparently, that’s where a lot of demons, half-gods, monsters and other nasties get banished to. No room on Thea for that kind of evil. And it certainly doesn’t belong on Earth. So...” He stabbed the chopping board leaving the knife sticking up at a right angle. “I suppose you could call it hell.”
“Oh,” was all Elora could say to that, thinking that the Shadowland was a place that was missing a takwich or two.
“Do you mind if I rest for moment? I think the events over the last couple of days have taken its toll on me,” she lied, an idea forming in her mind.
Norgie nodded. “Course you can lass. I’ll finish off in here then I’ll be going out anyway. Need to get to the butchers before he shuts. Do you want anything while I’m out?”
“No, thank you.”
“Right you are then, get some sleep. I’ll bring you in a cup of tea when I get back.”
Elora smiled at him. She really liked Norgie, he was a nice person and felt guilty at what she was going to do.
Shutting the kitchen door, she walked to the living room and placed cushions on the sofa, throwing the blanket over them and arranging them to appear as if she was sleeping beneath. It wouldn’t fool anybody who came in but somebody poking their head around the door would get the impression that she was asleep.
Once done she closed the door and slipped down the staircase to the cellar, taking each step as softly as she could. Holding her breath, she grasped the door knob and pulled the door open, wide enough for her to slip through before swiftly shutting it behind her.
She gasped as she took in her surroundings. Pressing against the door to steady her weak legs, she blinked several times as her mind processed the scene before her.
Tall, rich grass covered the floor, surrounded by large flowers that formed a circular wall around the perimeter where the grass ended, and the concrete began. The flowers themselves appeared to be a kind of moon daisy although they were perhaps twice the size of the moon daisies she was used to; their petals so vibrantly white that they seemed to radiate from within and the golden centres shone like tiny suns. They swayed to a breeze that she couldn’t feel and when their stems touched each other it caused the air between to crackle and shimmer as if filling the space with static.
The circle almost covered the entire cellar, raised perhaps a few inches above the ground and formed a lush green dais. She took a step towards the phenomenon, unable to recognise a large object that lay at the centre as the very air within the circle oscillated like the waves of a mirage above a hot road.
Another step and she could make out the beautiful twittering of song birds and the bubbling of a brook that seemed distant, yet she was sure it came from within the dais.
So, this was the fairy circle Norgie had mentioned. She found it beautiful as she took in the bright colours and rich smells. She gazed about the edges, seeking out the fairies themselves.
A high-pitched caw, like that of an eagle, screamed above her and she caught rapid movement in the shadows above. A large black object suddenly swept between the bright shimmering air and the dark dusty ceiling.
It moved swiftly, darting from above, too fast to make out any detail other than it was the size and shape of a large bird; a flash of sharp talons as it passed her face. It let cry another caw and she felt a sharp sting on her bare arm. She looked down but saw no cut or scratch to indicate an injury.
The bird passed her face again, causing a wind that ruffled her hair. She stepped back bringing her arms over her head defensively and felt further stings on her arms - as if being repeatedly stabbed with a needle.
Staring through her fingers she watched as the bird banked around the fairy circle; momentarily going out of sight behind the curtain of blurred air before flying high and then diving directly at her.
Blue light, like the tiny spark from a lighter, flashed from the bird’s back and she received another sting to the elbow. She retreated until she slammed into the door, found the handle and twisted it but a second flash from the bird’s back caused her hand to jolt, releasing her grip.
The pain was more like that of an electric shock, reacting with the nerves in her hand, making her release the handle. Another jolt to her leg and it gave way, her teeth jarring as she hit the ground. The bird cawed another time and Elora curled her knees up and placed her arms over her head.
“Leave me alone,” she shouted at her attacker whose answer was to hit her with another painful shock on her bare neck. She sought a way to escape or an object to hide behind but instead she found the bird flying across her vision, its sleek body silhouetted against the bright fairy circle.
As it passed once again, she noticed something small dislodge from its back and glide towards her. She tried to roll out of the way, but it was too quick, landing hard on her knee and sending another jolt of electricity into her leg. She swiped her arm towards the object, attempting to knock it off but felt another sting dash through her hand. When her eyes finally focused she ceased struggling.
“Stop. Please. I don’t mean you any harm,” she blurted out to the tiny little creature.
It was three inches tall and in the shape of a man. A silver helmet adorned his head, blue eyes scowling from beneath the pointy peak. He held a long javelin, cocked back in his arm, ready to throw.
Astonished, she watched as he opened a pair of wings, their span spreading at least a hand’s width each side and pulsing with electricity, like tiny lightning storms forking across the fine membrane. A fairy. Elora felt a giddy excitement rush though her. She was actually seeing a real fairy.
“I’m a friend of Bray’s,” she explained. The fairy cocked his head to the side as is if he was considering her words yet didn’t lower the javelin. “Please. He is injured, I came to help him.” But the fairy didn’t seem to understand. He shouted at her in a strange language, his voice high pitched and barely audible. Then the moon daisies parted, and a tall figure stepped from the dais.
“Bray,” she said, relief easing the tension. He limped towards them. His face a pale alabaster, sweat clinging in sticky beads and blood still dripping from an arm. How much more could he lose before he fell unconscious?
“I told you not to follow,” he whispered through clenched teeth. The fairy watched the exchange between them and lowered the javelin, resting the point on her knee.
“But your injuries. You look ready to fall at any moment,” she said, wanting to rise from the floor but not wanting to upset the fairy who stood in place, eyes shining with the electric blue of his wings. Then he opened its mouth and made the cawing sound of the bird. Within a heartbeat the large bird landed on her other knee, long talons hooking into her jeans. It had a sharp but slender beak, its body sleek yet muscled like that of a falcon. It surveyed her with an intelligence greater than any bird.
“Elora. This is Prince Dylap of the Farrosian Forest,” offered Bray, nodding towards the fairy. “Prince Dylap, this is Elora Delermere of the Minuans.”
Elora gazed at the fairy as he climbed upon the back of the black falcon. “Pleased to meet you,” she said. The fairy regarded her, his handsome features fixed in a firm expression. Then nodded once before grasping the feathers behind the bird’s back and kicked his heels into its flank. It jumped into the air and disappeared into the dais.
“I thought fairies could fly by themselves,” remarked Elora as she rose to her feet.
“Humans can walk. Doesn’t stop them riding horses or driving cars. Besides he’s not a fairy. He’s god created.”
