D’arvan groaned and covered his eyes with one hand, and Hellorin whooped with mirth. “An excellent choice, indeed! D’arvan, you have a she-wolf on your hands!” His voice became sober. “Fear not, little warrior. The Lady Eilin will come to no further harm. The Phaerie honor her for her work in this vale, and I would not allow her to die. In summoning me, you brought yourselves into my kingdom, where time holds no sway. Her life is suspended here—suspended and preserved. But I must know who irresponsible for this atrocity, and why.
You are right—this is no light matter, and my instincts tell me it is part of a greater pattern of mischief. So let us make ourselves comfortable, children. Tell me what has come to pass in the world outside.”
He waved his hand, and the clearing in which they stood wavered and blurred. The surrounding trees became the pillars of a great hall, their branches linking overhead to form a roof. At one side, where the crimson-berried hollies had stood in splendor, a fire blazed in a huge fireplace. The floor was covered by a deep green carpet.
D’arvan gasped. “Why, it’s like the Great Hall at the Academy!”
“And from whom do you think the Magefolk stole the design?” Hellorin’s voice held a grim edge that vanished with his next words. “Come, sit.”
D’arvan retrieved Eilin’s staff, and Maya helped him limp to the deep, comfortable chairs beside the roaring fire. A huge gray hound was sprawled before the flames, taking up all the space in front of the broad hearth. Though Hellorin had made no visible summons, the doors at the far end of the hall opened, and a tall, copper-haired Phaerie lady entered, gowned in green and as slender as the willow she resembled. Her eyebrows went up at the sight of the bloodstained strangers, “Will you bring refreshments, please?” Hellorin asked her. “And convey the Lady Eilin to our Healers.”
Her brown eyes^idened at the sight of the Earth-Mage, “Lady Eilin! My Lord, what evil is this?”
“That is what I intend to find out.” He waved her away. “Summon the Phaerie, my dear. I believe that this event may mark the end of our long waiting.”
The Phaerie woman’s eyes burned. “At once, my Lord!” In a soundless explosion of golden light, she vanished.
Hellorin chuckled at Maya’s dumbfounded expression. “We generally use the doors,” he said dryly. “Melianne is rather excitable, however.”
D’arvan was utterly exhausted, drained in body and spirit by the events of the day. At first he thought the ripple in the air before the hearth was a trick played by the firelight on his tired eyes. Then he heard Melianne’s sharp voice coming, it seemed, out of thin air. “Barodh, you oaf, get out of the way!” The hound leapt up and slunk guiltily to its master’s side, whining. Where it had been lying, the shimmering air began to glow, forming a globe of golden light which cleared to reveal a low, round table. On its snowy cloth reposed a flask of clear yellow wine and three crystal goblets. Bread and fruit took up the remaining space, and the fragrance of the food made D’arvan’s mouth water. But his attention was diverted by Maya’s anguished cry: “Eilin!” He swung round in his chair to see the body of the Earth-Mage surrounded by the same golden light. Even as he looked, she was gone.
“Do not worry, Maya.” Hellorin’s voice was soothing, “My Healers far outstrip those of the Magefolk in skill. Eat, children, and rest yourselves—and tell me your tale,” He poured wine for them, and handed them the sparkling goblets, Maya, about to take a sip, suddenly hesitated, and the Forest Lord smiled. “Legends again, Maya? Well, you need not worry about that one. Tasting our food and drink will not put you any further into my power than the two of you have already pur yourselves by summoning me,”
D’arvan met Maya’s eyes and shrugged. This was his father, after all, and he had helped them so far. He took a sip of the wine and saw Maya do likewise, though she still looked suspicious. Somehow, the thought that she would follow him, even into this, warmed him as much as the drink—which was potent enough. D’arvan felt it course through his body, as though his veins were running with liquid fire. His weariness fled, and the room seemed to come jnto sharp and vivid focus around him. The tight, hot ache of his injured leg vanished as though it had never been.
Hellorin pressed food on them, and as they ate, D’arvan told of Miathan’s perfidy, the breaking of the Mages’ Code, and the fall of the Magefolk into evil, Hellorin said nothing until D’arvan reached the end of his story, telling of Davorshan’s attack on Eilin and his brother’s death, followed by the desperate summoning of the Phaerie Lord. As he faltered into silence, his father leapt from his chair, one fist pumping skyward in a gesture of victory. “At last!” he exulted. “At last!” Outside the hall, a chorus of glorious Phaerie voices cried out in wild celebration. Maya leapt to her feet with an exclamation of dismay.
“Father!” D’arygjn’s shocked voice cut through the Forest Lord’s rejoicing. Breathing hard, Hellorin resumed his chair. “Oh, my son,” he gasped, “if you only knew how we have waited down the endless years for this news! For goodness’ sake, sit down, girl.” He waved an irritable hand at Maya who was still on her feet, her eyes casting round the hall for a weapon of some kind.
“My Lord, how can you rejoice at such a grim tale?”
D’arvan asked in cold reproof. “Have you forgotten my mother? I’m Magefolk as well as Phaerie, and you mock both my grief and that of all folk who suffer because of this evil!”
Hellorin looked abashed. “My deepest apologies to you both. Please, Lady, sit down and let me explain; then perhaps you will understand my unseemly joy.”
Maya gave him a savage look. “This had better be good,” she growled. Hellorin winced.
“You have been taught that the Universe is shaped by Chance and Balance,” the Forest Lord began, pouring himself a cup of wine. “You may not know that the Magefolk were brought into this world to maintain and guard the Balance, as others were on other worlds, lest Chance gain a stranglehold, and the Universe be destroyed by Chaos, Chance’s bastard child.”
Maya’s fingers drummed impatiently on the arm of her chair,
“I’m getting to it, woman, I’m getting to it!” Hellorin snorted. “To shorten a lengthy tale, we Phaerie have always been, well, rather unpredictable—and we wield great powers of the Old Magic. The ancient Magefolk feared us, believing us agents of Chance, which was, in a way, quite true. They contrived to shut us out of the world—to imprison us in this Elsewhere, which “we cannot leave unless summoned, and from which we might not influence the events of the world. We arc-also unable to bear children among ourselves in this place-hence our need for the occasional Mortal or Mage, immune to the Magefolk spells, to increase our race.”
D’arvan froze, paralyzed by a new fear, a new grief, “You mean you used my mother . . .” he gasped,
“No—never!” Hellorin reached out to grasp his arm. “Do you think we Phaerie are monsters? No child is born to us, save through deepest love ... It tore my heart when Adrina returned to Nexis to fulfill that ridiculous promise to her father. I wept, and raged, and cursed—desperate to go to her, to find her and bring her home. But I could not come unless I was summoned, and no one summoned me—until today.” His voice was choked with grief.
“Oh, Father,” D’arvan whispered, too moved to say more.
Hellorin took a long swallow of his wine. “Now it may be clear to you why we are unfriends with the Magefolk. They robbed us of our freedom, over many a long age—and they were wrong to do so. You see, Chance is as essential to the world as Balance. Without us, the Magefolk began to stagnate, becoming more introspective, more proud and self-willed. In their pride, they created the four great Artifacts of Power, of which the Caldron is but one. When the Cataclysm came, we almost escaped them, but failed. Then, in our bitterest moment, came our greatest hope. The Sword of Flame, the greatest of the Four Weapons, was given into our keeping by its makers, who desired that it should be taken out of the world until ir was claimed by the One for whom it had been forged. When the time was right, they told us, we must return it to the world, setting traps and guards about it to ensure that it would only fall into the proper hands.