The War of Odds (23 page)

She took her Weirding stick in hand and stepped close to Rondel. Remembering her lessons and knowing the deep well of empathy she needed to plumb, Sara placed the stick on the elf’s chest, just above his heart. Then she began.

The dwarf stepped back as the red light of Sara’s healing energies shot from her stick into the elf’s body. For a few moments, the surface of Rondel’s body glowed red, and then the stone started cracking and falling away onto the floor. As more and more of Rondel’s skin emerged, allowing him to breathe, Sara’s body began to tremble with the strain.

The Sasquatches and Pike helped the elf shed his stony shell, as Sara fell down on the ground in a faint. Nate and Chloe bent over their friend, and helped her sit up. She was shaking with fatigue but proud of being able to help. Pollo stood close to the girl and whispered his gratitude and apologies over not being strong enough to do more.

Onio studied the two open doors. He knew that the guardian of the doors was dead but that more terrors lie within the court’s antechamber. Eyeing his companions, he could not help but wonder if they were up to the task.
 
The fact that both the sprite and the girl were exhausted by one healing made him wonder if this was a fool’s errand, one that would get them all killed.

Then he heard something approach from the tunnel. Looking up he saw a stranger come in to their midst, but the sprite, the dwarf and the humans gasped with joy and excitement. Sara and her friends jumped up with a cry of disbelief, shouting, “Tandy… you’re alive! Oh, welcome back.”

Onio saw a beautiful white unicorn prance up to where they huddled by the doors to the inner chamber. He saw that its coat was riddled with cut marks, and that its horn had either been cut off, or broken but it was clearly happy to be back amongst its friends. It pranced and bobbed in place, nickering and grazing gentle black lips on the teen’s heads and shoulders in shy affection.

Clearly, the beast was loved and appreciated by the humans but Onio glanced at his brother, Big Rock, who nudged his shoulder, meaningfully.

“See the animals, First Son,” Big Rock mumbled and Onio turned to watch Hiss and the two Hellhound’s reaction to the newcomer. All three animals pinned their ears back in alarm and confusion, growling deep in their furry throats.

“Children, tread carefully now…” he started to exclaim, when the unicorn suddenly stared deeply into his eyes and bared its teeth. Then, its white hide turned black, and its brilliant silver mane and tail turned into slimy green strands of seaweed. In Tandy’s place there now loomed an enormous black Kelpie with glowing red eyes.

Horrack, the Kelpie, seized Nate’s arm in its long, yellow teeth, and its mane reached out with grasping tentacles, whisking the boy off his feet. Then it took off running toward the pool. Sara and Chloe screamed and the Sasquatches tried to stop the evil beast but it was too quick for them. Nate struggled fiercely and tried to jump off, but his efforts were in vain. The Kelpies tail and mane writhed and squeezed the boy too tightly. He glanced over his shoulder and stared sadly into Sara’s eyes.

Screaming in triumph, the Kelpie dove head first into the deep pool of water and took Nate, Sara’s newfound love, to his death.

Chapter 25

Sara howled in grief, and Chloe fell to her knees, pulling at her short hair in fear and sorrow. The girls held each other, moaning in disbelief. “I want to go ho…home,” Chloe groaned, and Sara nodded in agreement. She could not believe that the worst had actually happened… that one of her friends, the boy she had fallen in love with, had perished on this mission… along with so many others!

She lifted her head, staring at the pond’s still waters. She took vague notice of the sprite’s tears and the dwarf’s anger, the elf’s sorrow and the Sasquatches who faced outward in defensive formation, but did not dare look any of them in the eye. Right now, the only thing she really wanted to do was tell them all to go jump in the pond and drown! She hated Pollo, who alerted Muriel to her existence and she hated Muriel for dying. She hated the elves, the dwarves…, and all things magical.

“Child, listen to me,” Onio said.

Sara envisioned the black Kelpie grab ahold of Nate and saw the one frantic glance he sent her way before plunging headlong to his death. She saw his bashful smile, and his glossy, dark brown hair. She remembered how warm she felt watching him learn to fight with the dwarves on the practice field, and felt his lips on hers. Her mouth twisted with grief, and tears streamed, unchecked, from her eyes.

“Sara!” Onio knelt on his knees in front of where she sat, clutching Chloe in her arms.

She blinked, glaring, “What?”

Onio gazed at her with kind eyes, which only made her want to cry harder. Nodding, he said, “I know this is hard, Sara. I have lost many friends in battle… it never gets any easier. You need to remember, though, that much depends on the success of this mission.”

Sara shook her head in denial, looking away from his piercing, green eyes.

“Yes, Sara! In fact, the fate of all humans and Faerie folk as well, depend on what we do now. Muriel, the witch, chose wisely, when she picked you to heal Timaron. Your powers cannot be swayed by magic, like the beings you see here. The Sasquatch are not fae- we are alien beings from the planet Sasquereen and so, we are not affected by the magic in this realm, either.

Rondel, Pollo, Pike and now, I think, William are of the fae realm and vulnerable to attack. The land of faerie is overrun with evil, and the human lands have become infected as well!” He sat back on his heels.

Pollo put one small hand on the Sasquatches upper thigh. His bright, slanted eyes were huge with grief and unshed tears. “Sara, please… let’s finish this!” he whispered, adding, “I am so sorry about Nate.” The brave little sprite hung his head and sobbed.

Rondel, although still ill and shaking from the dragon’s toxic, paralyzing fumes, struggled to his feet. Watching the grief on the girls faces, he felt guilty at his own rudeness in dealing with these youngsters. Elves had long held deep resentment of human beings, in general. Once, in the dawn of time, elves reigned supreme over the planet. They watched the birth of man and thought nothing of the new species of animal that bred promiscuously, populating the world with more and more of their kind until, finally, the elves were forced to retreat to and stay, exclusively, in the land of faerie.

Many of his own people had sworn oaths against human kind and dreamed of the day when Elves reigned supreme again. Rondel had never joined their ranks, however, and although he was a warrior and renowned for his skills as a fighter, he never thought of humans as enemies. His beliefs were sorely tested, though, when the human teenagers were brought along on this critical mission.

The young people seemed indolent, pampered, weak and spoiled. They possessed no fighting skills and were woefully ignorant of the world around them. Rondel and his sister, Rowena had often smirked at them and marveled that human children reached maturity at all. Now, though, Rondel knew that his own prejudices colored his eyes and painted a false vision of the brave children within their troupe.

Nate was gone now and Sara’s hollow-eyed stare clutched at Rondel’s heart. Recalling the girl’s courage in an unfamiliar world, and her selfless desire to heal, the elf realized that he had judged her wrongly and that he was at fault in his blatant disregard for her efforts. He had known Muriel the witch for years and knew that she was a hard taskmaster. Rondel remembered the nymph’s quiet pride at her student’s accomplishments, and he cringed at his own dismissal of Sara’s skill.

In addition, he remembered how proud and astonished the dwarves had been while teaching Nate how to fight. He saw the boy grin as sweat dripped off his body, and acknowledged Nate’s dignity and good humor as his diminutive instructor’s devised ever-more painful lessons, in their enthusiasm to make him into a warrior. The young man had learned war-craft in a short span of time, at least as well as many young elves learned over the course of many years training.

Chloe needed help as well, and Rondel gave himself a mental slap. It was plain to see that Chloe was a half-breed elf, and he recalled how eagerly she had learned to use an elven bow, and how hard she had tried to please him and his sister. She needed him now, and in the days and years to come, if she were to survive as a mixed breed creature, intact and whole.

Elves often snuck into the human world with the sole purpose of seducing human women. It was done out of spite, competition, and derring-do. Young elven men sometimes staged contests to see just how many human girls they could impregnate without being caught, never realizing, or caring, how many hearts they broke, or lives they shattered in the process.

Chloe was obviously the product of one of these clandestine affairs. Unlike some elf/human hybrids, she seemed well balanced and happy, but Rondel knew he and his deceased sister had not made things any easier for the children. He vowed then, that he would act as a guardian and ally for the young human beings when (and if) they survived the next few hours.

Rondel bowed to Sara and sat close to Chloe, pulling her shaking body into a light embrace. She curled under his right arm and shuddered with grief, as Sara stared at the Sasq warrior, Onio.

“I… I just don’t think I can do this,” Sara whispered, “I honestly don’t know what you and Muriel were thinking, Pollo, when you picked me to help!”

Pollo stared, and replied, “My lady, you are very strong! Anyone with eyes can see your strength.”

Sara shook her head violently, but Onio snapped, “Sara, I agree with the sprite. You ARE strong. Your heart is full of grief and fear now, of course, but we need you to finish what you started. If nothing else, you need to fulfill your duty to those who have given their lives on this mission. My brothers and I will die, if necessary, to keep you safe while you attempt to heal the mad king!”

Sara looked down at her feet, and her shoulders slumped with defeat. There was simply no way she could do this, she was sure of it. However, so many people had died, including Nate; she knew that she had to try, for their sake. Nodding her head, Sara asked for water, and the companions rose to face the huge double doors that led into the king’s chamber.

Red, orange and black shadows danced and writhed on the walls within, and the smell of death hung thick in the air. Sara swallowed back her nausea and fear. Pollo jumped on Hissaphat’s back, and the little dwarf glared ahead with a short, evil looking iron sword in his right hand.

William had put his fiddle away and he used the hem of his sleeve to wipe away tears of grief. He put a gentle hand on Sara’s shoulder and murmured, “You are a brave, brave girl, Sara. Whatever happens, I’ll be right here by your side.”

Chloe and Rondel took up the rear. Chloe wiped her face with one of Nate’s old bandanas, smiling weakly at Sara, who smiled back. Sara studied the little Asian girl’s face and memorized her large dark eyes, and the impish grin that often lit up Sara’s world with joy.

She felt almost certain that none of them would survive this final leg of their journey… a journey that was doomed to fail because of her own incompetence. Nevertheless, she turned around and faced the doors, determined to heal the king, even if it killed her.

Onio took her hand and smiled. “My wife is human, you know. Her name is Melody and she is the bravest person I know. You remind me of her, Sara.”

Sara stared up at the tall Sasquatch and smiled, although her heart was broken. “Thanks, Onio,” she replied. “Let’s get going before I chicken out, completely.”

Nodding, Onio released her hand, and the company moved slowly toward the open doors. Stepping through the threshold, they stopped and stared. Sara recalled the visions Hestia had shown them in her enchanted woods.

There were about twenty long, banquet style tables set in four rows each, leading up to a raised platform. Gold plate and silver flatware adorned the tables, and evidence of a good meal could be seen here and there through the blood that painted everything and everyone red.

There were, at least, a hundred elves, maybe more sitting slumped over at the tables. They were all dead and had been slashed to ribbons by swords and knives. Their bodies were laced with cut marks and it looked as though none of them had put up the least resistance.