The Lost Witch (14 page)

When Carole glanced at her own wet body, she saw that she too was shimmering.

The forest began to whisper under the influence of a warming breeze. As Carole turned
to look, she found herself breathless yet again, for the tree trunks were thick columns of
burnished silver, while their leaves, silver underneath and emerald on top, quivered radiantly.
This place was nothing at all like the Ghostly Spirit Realm. This land was beautiful.

A new sound, like the delicate tones of far off church bells echoed over the water. The
sound grew in volume, until she could recognize not only the chiming of bells, but also merry
laughter. She peered across the lake.

Half-a-dozen figures were skimming along the surface, approaching at a tremendous
rate. As they neared, the figures transformed into water skiers, zigzagging their way towards her.
Water skiers...but not exactly human. The lead skier was a woman, arrayed in long gossamer
cloth, which flowed behind like the tail of a kite. She was exceptionally beautiful but quite tiny,
and she wore a sparkling crown. She also sported a pair of wings, but was being towed by a
dragonfly the size of a Great Dane.

On the heels of this regal skier came six other wildly dressed creatures. Three were
carving out sparkling wakes behind giant dragonflies, while the others were carrying baggage
under the power of their own wings. Just before they reached Carole, the skiers released their
winged steeds, closed ranks and landed as one.

The woman with the crown extended a graceful arm towards Carole. "Did I not tell you
it was so! I felt a tremulous pulse from the celestial spheres. Now here before us stands what can
only be a Hub witch, though a very young one who, by the looks of her, hath certainly seen more
than her share of adventure. How exciting!"

Carole tried unsuccessfully to brush her dripping mop of hair out her eyes with one
hand, while smoothing her tattered skirt with the other.

"Yes, your Majesty." The most wildly dressed of the group bowed low while
intertwining his longish toes together. "Correct in your divination, as always. Though I wish you
would have waited at least until a few of the forest guard had returned from their sortie to escort
your most noble personage. What with these days of nights, I cannot personally admit that this
mad dash was an extremely wise thing to do." The speaker looked much older and wizened than
the other faeries, with white patches of beard growing from his face in all directions.

"You worry too much, advisor, but should your fears prove sound, then all the better that
we have arrived in time to intercede on behalf of this poor child's fate. Look about you. Doth she
have the benefit of a forest guard? Yet here she stands, alone and unafraid."

The regal woman smiled at Carole. "Dear one, my name is Princess Glistlefern, and I
hold dominion over this land of the Silvering Oaks." She indicated the bordering forest, which
continued to shimmer, even though there was no longer a hint of breeze in the air. "And this
cautious individual," she said as she indicated the old faerie, "is Wrinkletoes, my chief advisor.
Timid to a fault perhaps, but his protestations are solely for my benefit, and he is most often a
fount of sage advice."

Wrinkletoes bowed low.

"Beside him, are the Lord and Lady Trudupkin, two of my favorite companions. And
behind them are my most trusted attendants: Thornblower, Morningdew, and Lukie." At the
mention of his or her name, each performed a formal bow or curtsy.

"We were presently to dine when I felt your arrival in our realm. You do, I must say,
have the look of a Hub witch about you, my dear, though that would indeed be much to hope for
in these dire times. So pray tell, who are you, and how came you to the sweet shores of Lilypad
Lake?"

Carole curtseyed somewhat clumsily. "My name is Carole Sylphwood and I've been told
that I'm from the Hub, but I haven't come here from The Hub...at least not directly."

"But your Majesty, all multitaskers must come directly from The Hub," Wrinkletoes
said. "A Hub witch is tethered to that nexus, as a spider is to its silk! That is their way. To not
come from such, is to not be such!"

"So you say, Wrinkletoes, and yet this child hath arrived in a manner befitting that of a
multitasker, though according to the weave of her light, she is not presently attached to The
Hub."

"Somewhat befitting a multitasker, princess. There are irregularities in her song." The
advisor pointed to the air a few inches off to Carole's right.

"Beautiful irregularities nonetheless, Wrinkletoes. And heard you not her maiden voice?
Doth she not bear the name of faerie ilk? Still, it is true she doth not appear as lithe as you nor
I."

"Certainly not as fair as you, your majesty. No fay that dances betwixt the raindrops of
our handsome realm doth bear a radiance equal to your own splendor."

"You silver-tongued fox." The princess laughed. "But now back to you, Carole of the
Sylphwood. Could you soothe the old nerves of my Wrinkletoes, by providing him with a
solution to his perplexity?"

"I'll do my best."

"Splendid, my dear. So how is it that a Hub witch bearing the name of faerie kin hath
arrived in our realm at a time when none other dares visit?"

"By mistake. I'm trying to find my way back to The Hub and somehow ended up here.
And Wrinkletoes is right. I'm not attached to The Hub, at least not anymore. I got thrown off by
something called The Great Conundrum."

"The Conundrum? Will that infernal cosmic pestilence never cease to torment us?
Wrinkletoes declared.

"I do think counselor, that in this circumstance it is our guest who hath been tormented.
Still," the princess continued as she studied Carole's features carefully, "there is something about
you...something akin to this realm. Perhaps you have a drop or two of faerie blood pulsing within
your veins."

Carole felt a tingling sensation as Princess Glistlefern concentrated a piercing stare at
her chest.

The princess looked away a few seconds later, her expression uncertain. "That must be
it."

Princess Glistlefern turned to the others. "We must celebrate the timely arrival of this
distant cousin of ours, and a Hub witch at that. Wrinkletoes, let us prepare a proper Feast of
Linking."

Wrinkletoes stared with unabashed surprise. "But--but your majesty, without a Council
of Confirmation? And here of all places and of all times? So close to the Silvering Oaks?"

"Are they not the same Oaks which my crown doth swear to protect?" The princess's
eyes flashed lightning.

"Yes, your Majesty." Wrinkletoes' feet turned red and his toes squirmed like so many
worms. "But since the change? And tonight of all nights? See how the Pale One dogs the Sisters.
If she should turn red of face during that chase..." The old advisor nervously squinted
skyward.

"Should the Pale One loose her anger upon the land, than we shall skip back to our
court. Our steeds remain bridled and are merely a whistle away."

"That is true your Majesty, but--"

"My Lord and Lady Trudupkin, do you also feel as timorous as our counselor? Is a
ceremony, small and meager though it must be, truly such an ill-advised event to hold?"

"My princess." Lord Trudupkin bowed so low that his spiked, purple hair brushed
against the sand. "Your counselor hath indeed grown wise in his many, many years, but perhaps
in so doing is it possible that he hath forgotten some of the joys and responsibilities of life? For
do we not owe our guest the courtesies which we are still capable of bestowing, despite our own
hardships? And as your Majesty hath so insightfully pointed out, should disaster befall our
meager affair, we need but take to wing and push speedily for home!"

"Spoken wonderfully my brave lord." Princess Glistlefern chuckled. "Wrinkletoes, have
the attendants set forth a Feast of Linking for our guest. Close--but not too close--to the Silvering
Oaks. Though we dare not pass directly 'neath their leafy limbs, I wish those noble trees to know
we have not abandoned them."

"But Princess," Wrinkletoes persisted, "a Linking Ceremony? She is not yet
proven."

"Is she not? Who else hath dared the tumults of the spheres to visit our land these past
nine turns, save for this Carole of the Sylphwood? And see the cost. She hath no raiments
befitting one of her stature. She is bedraggled and bare of foot. Not yet proven? Tell me, is there
another within our own court who would fare so well amongst the heavenly weave, let alone dare
to set sail under such celestial storms?

"Enough of this timidity! Bring me proper Links, those befitting one of my stature, those
you would present to myself."

The faeries gasped and bowed deeply towards Carole before quickly and
cheerfully--except Wrinkletoes--running about the business of setting up their feast.

"Wait a minute," Carole said. "I'm not sailing into any storms. I'm just trying to get
home."

"Come, my dear, let us retire to the wood's edge so that I might lift some of the distress
from your brows." The princess led Carole to an old oak which stood a little apart from the rest
of the forest, being careful not to walk directly beneath the tree. She looked over the woodland; a
smile on her lips, but her eyes clouded. "This beautiful land was once our playful domain and we
its joyous guardians," she said with a sigh.

"Until The Great Conundrum?" Carole said.

"So it would seem.

"Before that time we lived harmoniously with the lights of our land, tending their song
and weaving health and happiness into our realm. Indeed we did not know it was possible to be
separate from the song of life. The weave was us, as much as we were the weavers. Yet since
that day, the music hath changed. The light hath oft failed us, and the weave hath become a web
to ensnare the gentle folk who seek to ply its strands. Even here, so close to the lyrical heart of
my realm, we must be on constant alert."

"You're not exactly making me feel better."

The princess smiled wisely. "Old Wrinkletoes might appear overly frightful, but he hath
spoken with truth. I do value his advice and share much of his concern, but with regards to the
Feast of Linking he is mistaken. The ceremony is a celebration. A song wherein we ask your
voice to join with ours to help strengthen the light, indeed to become one with ours, so that you
shall henceforth be recognized as both a weaver of the light and as one of us.

"Despite what Wrinkletoes might think, this is not a decision I take lightly, Carole of the
Sylphwood, for very few off-worlders are ever bonded so strongly to the fay. It should be
considered both a great honor and a great responsibility. Yet I see a greater song being woven by
what we shall do here this night. A song which could strengthen you in your journey and, in so
doing, provide hope and light to us all."

Carole cleared her throat. "Uh, Wrinkletoes also mentioned something about some
sisters?"

"The Sisters." Glistlefern pointed to the twin moons floating overhead. "There they
swim amongst the stars." She next pointed to the larger moon. "And the Pale One hath begun her
chase. Normally such events are accompanied with joyous festivals, for they signify adventure
and change, but alas, they have become messengers foretelling a time of dread. If the Pale One
should turn red of face at not being able to catch the sisters, her anger will spill upon our land
like a frigid snow. It is a painful disturbance felt by us all.

"There are those whose hearts are more easily swayed to madness and who, within such
madness, have turned to darker trails and darker pursuits. If such should happen here tonight, it
would be wise to flee before the madness completely awakens and seeks you out."

"But, I don't know how--"

Wrinkletoes appeared. "The feast is in preparation, my Lady. The Linking may
proceed."

"My dear, I must ask you to hold your questions a little longer. This way if you
please."

Princess Glistlefern led Carole to a small fire over which hung a steaming silver
cauldron, beside which lay a silken cloth covered with delicious-smelling morsels. Although
only moments before she hadn't the slightest urge to eat, the aroma of the food was such that
Carole's mouth began to water.

The princess guided Carole to a spot nearest the fire and motioned for her to sit. The rest
of the faeries had arranged themselves around the food.

"It hath been many a celestial turn since we weavers have performed a Linking,"
Princess Glistlefern announced. "Though some may cast doubt upon the timing or worthiness of
such a ceremony--"

Carole stole a quick glance at Wrinkletoes, whose toes remained noticeably still.

"Let me quell your misgivings. I have sensed a higher purpose to the forging of this link.
It is not as Councilor Wrinkletoes might imagine, simply a whim for pleasure, nor as Lord
Trudupkin might think, a thread to provide for the makings of a new court yarn. This shall be a
link forged as much for its necessity as for its merit, even if the splendor of the event will be but
the palest of shadows to our ceremonies long since past. So bow in honor and companionship to
Carole of the Sylphwood, a Hub Witch, a friend to the Silvering Oak Faeries and yet more. Bow
to one who shall forevermore be linked to the Faerie, be she with us in our own realm, or
traveling amongst the celestial lights."

The faeries bowed to Carole, not just once, but three times. Princess Glistlefern stepped
forward, taking Carole's hands in her own.

Carole's cheeks burned. "But I'm not--"

The princess pressed a tiny finger to Carole's lips, gently but firmly silencing her.
"Allow us to present you with a Link of Protection and raiments from our own looms, to replace
those garments which have deserted you in your time of need."

The attendant named as Morningdew stepped forward holding a silken cloth. Princess
Glistlefern accepted it and showed Carole a hooded dress that pulsed with a rainbow of
colors.