The Faerie Path (10 page)

Anita looked at Rathina with a raised eyebrow. “That was a bit harsh,” she said. “He did rescue me from that thing.”

Rathina linked her arm with Anita’s and led her along the path. “I am a princess of the Royal House of Faerie,” she said. “I will not be scolded by the likes of Gabriel Drake.”

“Even if he was right?”

Rathina’s face broke into a smile. “Most especially if he was right,” she said. She squeezed Anita’s arm. “I should have warned you about the basilisk,” she continued. “Had I been the one to discover the monster, I should have cut its head off without a moment’s thought. But Cordelia has a soft heart and will aid any animal in distress. Why, once she even found a griffin
in the woods, wounded by a huntsman’s arrow. She tried to nurse it back to health, but it proved too wild even for her patience, so she released it into the forest.” She looked at Anita. “Not all is beauty and grace in this land, Tania,” she said. “You would be wise to remember that.”

“I will,” Anita replied fervently. “I certainly will.”

They walked onward, arm in arm through the menagerie. A reclining leopard regarded them lazily with luminous yellow eyes from the shade of a tree. A fox dozed in a patch of sunlight. A stag walked unconcernedly across their path, turning its splendidly antlered head to look at them for a moment.

Anita wandered through the menagerie in absolute delight, twisting her head at each new movement, at each new pair of fearless, curious eyes.

A small, delicate creature ran past, its hooves making the softest tapping sound on the path. It was like a slender white horse, with a pale blue mane and tail, and large violet eyes. But it was no bigger than a fallow deer; its head only came to Anita’s waist. As it tossed its head, the sunlight sparkled on its single horn.

Anita gaped at it. “I thought unicorns were dangerous.”

“The great ones that dwell in the far north are deadly,” Rathina said. “But their southern brethren are small and gentle and easily tamed. You used to have one as a pet. It’s name was Percival. Do you not remember?”

Anita shook her head. At times it was very frustrating that the dream would not allow her to recall her past in this world. Princess Tania seemed to have had a fabulous childhood.

They came to where a servant girl stood scattering grain to a graceful assembly of peacocks. The beautiful birds were bobbing their heads and pecking up the grain, their long tails furled up. But as Anita and Rathina approached, one bird lifted its head and its great fan-shaped tail spread out in a magnificent display.

“Where is Princess Cordelia?” Rathina asked the servant girl.

“At the kennels, my lady,” she replied with a curtsy.

“Belladonna, one of her favorite bitches, whelped a few weeks ago,” Rathina explained to Anita. “No doubt we shall find Cordelia festooned with pups.”

They headed toward the kennel buildings. Anita stopped as a white duck led a long trail of fluffy yellow ducklings across their path. She watched, smiling, as the mother urged her children into a nearby pond.

Rathina clicked her tongue with mock impatience. “Give me a good mettlesome steed,” she said, “and all the rest may take care of themselves. Come, now. Belladonna’s pups await!”

Anita could hear the puppies yapping as they approached the kennels. Rathina opened the wicker gate to let them in.

Cordelia was sitting on the ground covered with leaping and crawling puppies. They were all light
brown with yellow eyes; from a quick count Anita calculated there were eight or nine of them.

A fully grown dog lay nearby, panting in the heat, watching her pups with her ears half-pricked.

“Cordelia, is this any way to behave?” Rathina chided. “These are meant to be working animals, not silly lapdogs. What would Father say to see you treat them so?”

Cordelia laughed, fending off the madcap puppies with both hands. “There is time enough for them to learn their duties,” she said. “Tania! Come and help me, please. I am overthrown!” And she gave a shout of laughter as the weight of puppies sent her rolling onto her back in the grass.

Anita ran over to the puppies and dropped down to her knees. Within moments there was a wriggling puppy in her lap and a wide wet tongue was licking her face. “They’re totally adorable!” She gasped as another puppy attacked her from the side.

“Fie! What children you are,” Rathina said with a laugh. “I have sterner pleasures to attend! I shall away to the stables and have Maddalena saddled. Then we shall try a few jumps together out on Puck’s Heath.” She looked down at Anita. “I shall leave you to your newfound friends,” she said. “Mind you wash and change before luncheon. I’ll not sit a-table with a sister who stinks of hounds.” And with a last shake of her head she strode away.

Cordelia pushed herself upright and smiled at Anita. “The other hounds need to be exercised,” she
said. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Of course,” Anita said, carefully putting the puppies onto the grass and scrambling to her feet.

A few of the more adventurous puppies followed them until Cordelia gave them a sharp command and they all went scuttling back to their mother.

They went through another gate into a fenced-off area filled with long-legged dogs who clamored to be let out as soon as they caught sight of Cordelia.

She opened the gate and for a few moments she and Anita were knee-deep in a racing tide of dogs. The hounds had deep chests; tightly muscled, powerful flanks; and thin, whiplike tails. Their heads were small, with long, narrow snouts and large intelligent eyes. Bright pink tongues lolled between sharp teeth as they panted.

At a word from Cordelia, the pack headed across the fields in a fluid stream, baying and barking as they ran.

Anita and Cordelia chased after them, Cordelia calling out instructions that sent the pack veering to the left or to the right or brought them to a panting, eager halt while the two of them caught up.

One hound left the pack and went racing away toward a clump of trees.

“Pyewhacket!” Cordelia called. “Come back!”

The dog came to a tumbling halt and trotted slowly toward her with his head down. He sat at her feet, staring up at her with great amber eyes.

“You must learn to obey my commands,” Cordelia
said to the hound. “Do you not wish to become one of the King’s pack when you are old enough?”

The dog made some whimpering sounds and then barked.

“I have heard that story before from you,” Cordelia said sternly. “But you are grown too old for such puppy-dog tales! Away with you, go, wait with the others.”

The dog got up and ambled over to the rest of the pack, looking back at her every now and then with remorseful eyes.

“I’m sorry if this sounds like a stupid question,” Anita said. “But did you just understand what that dog said to you?”

“Indeed I did,” Cordelia said. “He told me that he was urged on by Will-o’-the-wisp and Fletch. He always blames others for his misdeeds.” She smiled. “The ability to understand the speech of all animals is my special gift,” she added.

Anita stared at her, unable to think of anything to say in reply but wondering what other surprises awaited her in this astounding dreamworld.

They continued to walk as the tree-scattered parkland rose in a long gentle slope. It wasn’t long before they had left the menagerie and the buildings some way behind. Anita turned, shielding her eyes against the sun, and gazed back at the palace. And for a moment, as she stood there with the wind in her hair, the smell of the hounds and the grass in her nostrils,
and the wide-open lands of Faerie at her back, she was overwhelmed by such a sensation of contentment—of
belonging
—that she felt as if she could almost have reached out and touched it.

She turned to Cordelia, who was a short distance away, running up the slope in a sea of hounds.

“I’m meant to be here!” she shouted after her sister. “Gabriel was right! This is my home—”

The ground seethed under her feet. The world rippled—grass, trees, hill, and sky all dissolving in front of her eyes. A roaring wind burned through her head. She stumbled, dizzy and filled with sickness.

“No!”

All of Faerie had ripped open around her.

She heard the blare of traffic. The feel of hard tarmac under her feet.

She was standing in the middle of a busy street, surrounded by traffic that swerved to avoid her. Horns blasted in her ears and the driver of a white van shouted angrily at her from his open window.

Anita stared wildly around, reeling from shock—disorientated and nauseous and utterly terrified. The deafening blast of a horn rang out behind her and she spun around. A bus was bearing down on her, the driver staring at her in horror and wrenching frantically at the wheel. But it was too late. The bus was moving too fast. There was no way for it to avoid her.

Instinctively, she threw her arms up over her face.

The dream had ended. Somehow she had wandered out of her hospital bed in a blacked-out state, and she had come to her senses just in time to be run down and killed.

Anita felt the bus hit her. It was like a rushing wall, a crashing wave, a thundering avalanche slamming into her body. The pain seemed to tear her apart, to blast her to atoms. She screamed, her mind consumed by a darkness that was lashed with red flame and filled with a scorching, searing heat.

She felt herself tumbling over and over. But as she plummeted, she saw a pale light flickering below her. It sped toward her, a clear blue light, and there was a face in the light, an anxious face.

“Tania? What is it?”

Anita came slamming back into Faerie with a force that left her gasping. She was back on the grassy hillside with a river of hounds moving around her legs and Cordelia staring worriedly into her face.

Waves of heat and cold coursed through her. She collapsed to her knees, doubling up.

Cordelia crouched beside her. “Shall I fetch Hopie?”

“No,” Anita managed to croak. “It’s okay. I’ll be
fine.” She looked into Cordelia’s face. “Did I disappear?”

“Disappear? I do not know.” Cordelia laid her hand on Anita’s forehead. “I was busy with the hounds. I turned when I heard you scream. You looked moonstruck, as if you were seeing demons. What happened?”

Anita wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and knelt back on her heels.

“It’s difficult to explain,” she said. The feverishness was leaving her, but there was still a buzzing in her ears and a tingling in her hands and feet. She smiled weakly although her head was throbbing. “Help me up.”

Cordelia gave her a hand and Anita got to her feet. She took a long, deep breath.

“I would like to know what ails you,” Cordelia said, her voice serious.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she warned.

Cordelia frowned. “If you speak honestly, then I will certainly believe you.” She pointed to a grassy hillock shaded by a huge oak tree. “Come, let us sit, and you shall tell me these truths that cannot be believed.”

Anita smiled grimly. “Okay,” she said. “You asked for it.”

They sat with their backs to the trunk of the oak tree. The hounds snuffled the grass around them. Anita
was comforted by the sound, although she had her eyes closed as she spoke.

“The thing is,” she began, “this place, this whole world, is a dream. The fact is, I’m lying in a hospital bed right now. I might even be in some kind of a coma. Or maybe they’ve given me some kind of drugs that are making me dream all this crazy stuff.” She paused, expecting some kind of response from Cordelia. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” she said into the silence. She opened her eyes and looked at her sister. “You think I’m crazy.”

Cordelia shook her head. “I do not think that, Tania,” she said. “But part of you is surely lost still.”

Anita sighed. “Well, of course
you’re
not going to believe me,” she said. “You’re part of the dream. And I love this place, Cordelia, I really do. But I can’t spend the rest of my life in a dream. I have to wake up, and when I wake up, all this,” she spread her arms, “all this will disappear.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll be back in the real world where my boyfriend has gone missing.” She frowned. “Except in this dream, he’s not missing at all. He’s here, but I’m dreaming him all
wrong
. He doesn’t love me here…and…” Her voice cracked as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. “…and I just want it to end. I want to go home!”

Cordelia didn’t reply for a while. “This is not a dream,” she said at last. “The Realm of Faerie is as real as the Mortal World.”

“No, it isn’t,” Anita insisted. “I was just back in the
real world. That’s what happened to me. I’d woken up!”

Cordelia looked calmly at her. “You did not wake up, Tania. You moved from our Realm into the Mortal World, because you alone have the power to do so.”

Anita shook her head. “I woke up,” she insisted. “You won’t ever believe me, but that’s what happened.”

“And how did you fare in the Mortal World?” Cordelia asked.

“Not very well,” Anita said with a shudder, remembering that careering bus. “I was hit by…” Her voice faded away. She was hit by a bus. She had been standing in the middle of the road and a speeding bus had run her down. “I should be dead,” she breathed. “That bus should have killed me.”

It was impossible that she could have survived the impact, and yet here she was.

She curled over, her face in her hands. “This is totally insane,” she murmured. “What’s happening to me?”

This had to be a dream.
It had to be!
Otherwise everything she remembered about herself—her mum and dad, Evan, Jade, and her other friends—everything she had ever done or said or felt or experienced was gone forever.

“You belong in the Realm of Faerie,” Cordelia said gently. “You are Princess Tania, my beloved sister, returned to us at last.” She touched Anita’s arm. “The fact that you moved between the worlds a few
moments ago only goes to prove that I am right. You may not yet be able to control the power, but it is yours by birthright, and yours alone.”

“No!” Anita shouted. “No! No! No!” She scrambled to her feet. “Just shut up!” she shouted. “You’re not real!”

She ran wildly along the hillside, tears flooding from her eyes so that she was half blinded. She heard Cordelia calling after her, but soon the voice faded, and still she ran, not caring where she was going. She blundered through copses of rustling trees and over stretches of long grass, running and running till her legs ached and her lungs burned and a terrible pain stabbed deep into her side.

The ground leveled out and she plunged into a great expanse of waving, shoulder-high reeds. She ploughed onward, sweeping the reeds aside with her arms, crushing them under her feet.

But no matter how fast she ran, no matter how far she went, she couldn’t outdistance her dream, and the whole vivid world of Faerie kept pace with her until at last she tripped and fell sprawling onto her face.

The shock cleared her mind a little—that, and the fact that her hands had splashed into water. She pulled herself up onto her hands and knees and drew the curtain of reeds aside. She found herself staring out over a wide lake. Swifts swooped and darted over the still water. All around her she heard the chirrup of grasshoppers. Insects hovered above the burnished surface.

On the far side of the lake she saw thin white spires rising out of tall trees.

It was the building she had seen from the tower earlier that day; the lonely white building with the slender spires.

She got up and made her way back through the trampled reeds, coming out into the open and walking around the lake toward the building. She felt strangely calm, as if the effort of all that running had drained the confusion and anxiety out of her. All she could think of was reaching that solitary building.

She walked in under the trees and the white structure appeared ahead of her, surrounded by slender silver birch trees. It stood on a plinth of shining white marble. Polished stone steps led up to a massive covered entrance with a roof supported by white pillars. Above the trees, the spires pierced the sky like needles.

Anita’s heart began to beat fast as she mounted the steps. The mausoleum towered forty or fifty feet into the sky, dwarfing her. She walked toward an immense open doorway four times her own height. She paused, staring up at the lintel. Words were carved into the white stone.

TITANIA
.
BELOVED WIFE
.

BELOVED MOTHER
.
BELOVED
Q
UEEN
.

Now she knew what this lonely building was—it was the mausoleum that Sancha and Zara had told her
about in Mistress Mirrlees’s workroom. The great mausoleum that the King had built in memory of his drowned wife.

It was the empty tomb of the woman who, in this dream world, was Anita’s dead mother.

Trembling, Anita made her way into the silent building. The statue of a woman stood directly in front of her—life-size and painted in colors that made it seem almost alive.

The woman was wearing a long, light blue gown picked out with white patterns. She was smiling, standing with her arms outstretched in welcome. She had a heart-shaped face with a wide red-lipped mouth and high slanted cheekbones. In her long, flowing red hair, she wore a crystal coronet set with jewels. Her eyes were a smoky green.

Anita came closer, staring up into that familiar face—staring into those eyes.

Her heart missed a beat.

Time stopped.

The green eyes had golden flecks in them.

“No!”

Anita backed away.

She remembered the words that Oberon had said to her that first day, on the barge: “
You are as I remembered—the very image and reflection of your mother
.”

The face of the statue could have been her own face.

“This is
insane
!” Anita shouted, and her voice came echoing back to her.
Insane. Insane. Insane.
“I’m not
your daughter!”
Daughter. Daughter. Daughter.

She stumbled away from the statue, unable to tear her eyes from that gentle face, but desperate to get out of there.

She was suddenly aware of empty air under her foot. She snatched her head around, realizing too late that she had come to the top of the long stone stairway. She clawed at the air as she plunged backward and fell helplessly down the marble steps.

Her head throbbed. She could feel an intense pain in her shoulder and her ribs, and more pain driving up her right leg and into her hip.

There was light beyond her closed eyelids.

She groaned. The pain was real, there was no doubt about it—as real as the pain she had felt when she had first woken up after the accident on the Thames.

“At last!” She forced open her eyes, convinced that she would find herself in her hospital bed.

A cloudless blue sky stretched above her. She felt grass under her fingers.

“Oh, please, no!”

“Hush, my sister,” came a mellow, soothing voice. A face swam into sight. It was Hopie, her brown hair falling across her cheeks as she bent over Anita. Her hand felt cool as she rested it on Anita’s forehead.

Anita brought her hands up to cover her face. “I’m still here,” she breathed. “How can I still be here?”

“Is she badly hurt?” It was Cordelia’s voice.

“There are no broken bones,” Hopie said. “It was a long fall, but it could have been much worse. What was she doing here?”

“I do not know,” Cordelia said. “She ran from me. I followed, but she was like a wild thing. The hounds found her as you see her, at the foot of the steps. I could not make her wake. I left the hounds to protect her and ran to fetch you.”

“Tania? Can you stand?”

“Leave me alone.” Anita moaned.

“Sister!” Hopie’s voice took a hard edge. “Come now! You are not seriously hurt. Cordelia and I will support you. We must take you to my chamber. There are herbs and potions in my workroom that will give you ease.”

“Go away,” Anita breathed, but she felt strong hands on her, lifting her from the grass. She tested her feet under her. The pain still throbbed in her shoulder, ribs, and leg, but she could stand, as long as Hopie’s hand was at her elbow.

“Now, then,” Hopie said. “Lean on us as you walk. Be brave now, Tania. All will be well.”

It seemed an age before Anita was finally able to stretch out on cool sheets in Hopie’s bedchamber. A warm hand stroked her forehead.

“Hopie will be here in a moment,” Cordelia said. “She has medicaments and unguents that will take away the pain.”

Anita lay with one arm thrown over her eyes. She
was too exhausted and in too much pain to reply.

She was vaguely aware of someone coming into the room, but she didn’t open her eyes.

“How does she fare?” Hopie’s voice.

“As you see,” Cordelia replied.

“Hmm. Help her to sit up. She must drink this.”

“Get off me!” Anita groaned as she was hoisted up into a sitting position. “I don’t want anything.”

Hopie’s voice was stern. “Drink!”

Anita felt the wooden rim of a dish pressed against her lower lip. She opened her mouth and something was spooned in. It tasted bitter. She tried to spit it out. “Swallow!” Hopie ordered. Anita swallowed the nasty, slimy stuff. She opened her eyes. The thick mixture in the bowl was green-gray, like pond scum.

“What
is
that?” she croaked, gagging at the smell.

“White willow and elder to ease the pain,” Hopie said. “Gentian root and witch hazel to ward off infection. And sprigs of meadowsweet and myrtle steeped in bergamot oil to lessen the bruising.”

“It tastes foul!”

“It is
medicine
,” Hopie said. “I did not mix it to taste pleasant. You will feel the benefit shortly.”

“I should go and tend the hounds,” Cordelia said.

“Yes,” Hopie said. “Go. There is nothing more that you can do here.”

Cordelia leaned over and touched Anita’s cheek with her fingers. “My poor sister,” she said. “I wish you well.”

“Thanks,” Anita mumbled.

Cordelia left the room.

Hopie sat on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on Anita’s forehead. “How is the pain?”

“
Painful
,” Anita growled. She glared at Hopie. “I don’t want to be here anymore,” she said. “I want to go home.”

Hopie looked at her, her sky-colored eyes sympathetic though her voice was firm. “You are a daughter of the Royal House of Faerie,” she said. “You have a duty to your family and to this Realm. This is your home, Tania, not the Mortal World. We have already suffered five hundred years of darkness because of your foolishness.”

“No!” Anita said angrily. “That wasn’t my fault. That was because Titania drowned. You can’t blame me for that.”

“Indeed not?” Hopie raised her eyebrows. “Had our father not already been stricken to the heart by your disappearance, then his despair at the death of our mother would not have been so deep.” She raised a warning finger. “Be assured, sister, it is only your presence here that makes the sun turn in the sky once more. And you wish to return to the Mortal World and plunge us once more into eternal twilight? How can you be so selfish?”