Chapter 22
"She has her own beliefs about particular courses of events," Finnegaff told them of the Great Queen Xyledes. "She's arrogant and pompous; she believes that the world should focus its efforts on her needs, and in her part of Morrah it usually does."
"She is that, for sure,” Carameth commented. "I know her well. Sometimes she acts as the dark sorceress herself."
"And that she might as well be, as for me own concern!" Strongwind was not pleased with having to visit Mantadia.
Finnegaff accounted for the Centaur. "The war between Centauria and Mantadia ended in 2323 and was long, bloody and cost each side dearly. Though there was no true victor, treaties were formed between the two and...."
"There be a victor, I may correct!" Strongwind interrupted, erecting his torso proudly.
Finnegaff looked at him sideways. Strongwind kept his patriotic expression, yet he remained quiet. The Centaur held Finnegaff's world-renowned reputation for accurate recounts of histories in high regard. It is to say he knew better than to argue the point.
"Yes." The wizard continued. "Well, both still hold deep prejudices to one another, despite agreements and pacts."
"Wasn't the war over land?" Mia asked, recalling a history class she had taken at Marigaff's Farm.
"Nay!" Strongwind declared in a powerful bass voice as he held a fist into the air. "It be freedom for which me forefathers toiled!"
Finnegaff gave him the same look.
"It be so!" Strongwind tried to sound convincing. He slowly lowered his raised arm.
"Yes. Well, they were fighting for territory," Finnegaff continued.
Mia’s heart went out to her new friend. Strongwind had deep convictions about his homeland and now faced a situation that might prove difficult. She wanted to know more, needed to know more. She felt that gratifying, rewarding inner pride one gets in acquiring knowledge, and for the first time in her life had the realization that learning about any subject can, and will, have a direct, positive effect on one's life. The moment changed her views on education for the rest of her days.
"What I'm trying to say here,” Finnegaff remarked, “is that we'll encounter a number of prejudices, and we gotta be prepared to deal with them."
Strongwind spoke without malice. "It may be that I remain in Centauria and await your return. I would care not to be in the company of the wretched bulbeyes as it were!"
"It'd be a good idea, for instance, to not use that term for Mantids. No, remaining here would be a likable solution, but we need to all go. The Carrying of the Book of Life requires it."
"Do you think they might attack us?" Romessee said.
"No, I doubt it. But it's just the kind of thing that could escalate into a war, an unjust one. So it goes that a Centaur has not stepped foot, I beg pardon!, hoof in the capitol city of Rass in four hundred years, not since the last Carrying."
"And you believe me to go there?" Strongwind asked. He knew the answer, for he, as most Morrans, knew what Saa required for the Carrying of the Book of Life. His expression was one of entrapment, reflecting the nauseating feeling one gets when they find they must perform a repulsive task, like it or not.
"Yes!” Finnegaff wagged a finger at him as if warning a child. “And I believe you will behave yourself."
Strongwind reacted accordingly. His voice was low. "Aye, that I shall." His head shot up, his black beard nearly horizontal. Again he displayed the infamous Centaurian pride. "But it be in duty for the Carrying, and none other!"
"Yes, well..."
It was Strongwind's turn to wave a finger in the air at Finnegaff. "And make you certain the scribes do enter it into the history writings as such!"
"Yes, of course. That much I can do," Finnegaff assured the manhorse. "But keep in mind that a representative of Mantadia's gonna join our company and stay with us until the Reading has taken place."
"Of this I have thought for many ages," Strongwind told the wizard, "and choose to regard of me Mantid companion as ally, nay foe; to do otherwise would be folly."
"Very good, friend Centaur!" Finnegaff complimented him. Strongwind was proud of the compliment for, as everyone knows, compliments from any wizard, particularly this wizard, were rare yet eminently true. "But that will not stop Mantids from showing their hatreds toward you. That's what I'm worried about, particularly when dealing with Xyledes. She may even jail you," he addressed Strongwind, "or any of us, if things don't go her way. She won't instigate bloodshed; she's too intelligent and civil for that. However, should anything go wrong, we don't start anything." He looked at them all individually. "The sting of the Mantadian hornet is always fatal, and it is they that guard the palace."
"What's a Mantadian hornet?" Mia asked.
Carameth volunteered. "Mantadian hornets are hornets about this big," he held his hands about a foot apart, "and are intelligent beings. They're not intelligent like us. More like some dogs. Sometimes smarter. They're fiercely loyal to Xyledes. Their sting is said to be intensely painful and quick to kill. It's less than twenty breaths once stung before you die. But,” he shook his head, “no one's ever survived to tell about it. And they fly, and are very, very fast."
"Not as fast as I am!" Belemeriath claimed.
"There's nothing is as fast as you, beautiful fairy!" Romessee smiled sweetly at him.
"Oh, yes there is!" He flew to her and hovered. "My cousin Steremiamar. He's lots faster than me! Boy! I can hardly keep up with him!"
"Are there many fairies that are faster than you?" Mia couldn't visualize anything outside of a rocket that would exceed the blinding speeds that Belemeriath attained.
Belemeriath thought, freezing in flight, head cocked as he looked to the air through one squinted eye, a tiny finger on his chin. He sprang to life. "Nope!" he squealed. He buzzed around the party at high speed, at least high speed for being still in fairy form. He was much faster when in 'light form', as Mia called it.
"How did you get to know this Queen Xylenes...Xylees..." Mia asked Carameth. She leaned to the side atop Strongwind to speak to the more than handsome elf. Her eyes shone.
"Xyledes. Mother and Queen Xyledes are good friends, and often share the troubles that being of royalty brings between themselves." Carameth smiled that killer smile Mia almost feared, that smile that made her say or do or feel things she ordinarily wouldn't say or do or feel. It was as if there were something magic about it, some magic that was directed at her. Here, on Morrah, Mia thought, it wouldn't surprise her. Nothing here surprised her any more. "Leadership at the top gets lonely, and few are those who can understand. So, over the years, the two have gotten very close, and I've spent much of my childhood in her majesty's company. Mostly playing with her daughter, Princess Riccid."
"Riccid?" Mia repeated.
Carameth let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "Yes." He paused. "Riccid."
Finnegaff laughed at the elf's reaction. "What's so funny?" Mia said.
He chuckled. "I know Princess Riccid." He exchanged glances with Carameth. Carameth wasn't smiling.
"So what's so wrong with this princess?" Mia demanded.
"She's, well," Carameth stammered, searching for tactful words.
"She's like her mother," Finnegaff volunteered.
"Yes," Carameth agreed, "but more spoiled."
"Oh!" Mia nodded. "I can handle people like that." Carameth was shaking his head. He wouldn't look at Mia. She found this mannerism unnerving. Finnegaff continued laughing. "What?" Mia held her hands out, palms up. "I know how to deal with people like that. Even if they're not people."
Finnegaff looked her in the eye. "Just be careful what you say, child. The queen has a lot of power and she offends easily."
Mia's Stand reviewed strategies to deal with taunting Mantids. It was evident that Carameth knew a great deal about Queen Xyledes. He knew what they might expect, so did he become their advisor. Mia felt a strange sense of pride for him, as if he were hers. She at first dismissed the feeling, knowing it was unreal
istic, then decided that she did in fact enjoy it, unrealistic or not. She held on to the fantasy for a while.
Upon reaching the boundary of the Land of Lost Memories, the group camped for the night. The next day they would traverse the strip of land here where it was at its thinnest, as Finnegaff wanted to avoid being caught within its bounds after nightfall.
Mia's Stand camped a few hundred yards from the gloomy edges of the foreboding land. Sleep came hard for all. Romessee took the first of the set of two-hour watches, Strongwind the second, Carameth the last.
That evening Mia fell into a deep sleep. She then dreamed that she was younger, perhaps nine or ten. In this dream, she lived a different life than she actually had. She was in a yard with a picket fence, which surrounded a cute little cottage, painted in reds and yellows and whites, with flowers growing in the windowsill. The warm air carried a sweet cacophony of fragrance. She was playing with three or four bunny rabbits, nestling her face in their fur. She felt content, secure, more than she could ever remember. She was playing with the bunnies when a lady called to her from the door of the cottage, which she identified as her mother. In her dream, it was so; yet it wasn't Lori Murphy, her natural mother. The lady had long black hair, pretty gray eyes, was of a tall, slender build. She wore a beautiful purple dress that Mia thought she recognized. She felt deep love, a long-set bond to this lady.
"Mia!" the lady called in a sweet, melodious voice. "Come, please!" Mia promptly obeyed, happily surrendering the company of the bunnies to be with this wonderful woman.
She walked into a cottage that had the enchantment of a fairy tale. She didn't really see the charming layout of the interior, for she focused her attention on the lady.
"Mia, child. I would like to read a story to you!" Mia knew not why she relished story time, yet she did. The lady had seated herself in a rocking chair. She climbed onto the lady's lap as if she had done it a thousand times and cuddled with the lady as the book opened.
The lady read to her. "This is a story about a little girl who lived in a big town by a river. The little girl had lots of friends, for she was a very good little girl." She hugged Mia tightly. She looked at Mia with a warm love, giving her a feeling of happiness and contentedness.
"One day the little girl was playing with some friends when she saw that one of her friends had no shoes. The little girl gave her own shoes to her friend, for she had another pair, and her mommy had taught her to share.
"When she got home her mommy was so happy with her that she..." Mia fell asleep in the lady's arms. She awoke to the soft light of the fire of their encampment feeling mysteriously gratified. Carameth sat on a large stone across the fire. Something didn't feel right. She sat up in alarm. Something was wrong! Unable to place just what was amiss, she looked about the dark plain for clues. She saw nothing.
"Who goes there?" Carameth's sharp elf ears had heard her movement. He whispered the words without turning around. It was good practice for him to not face the fire, hence destroying his night vision.
"It's me. Mia," she whispered. She stood up with the thin blanket that acted as a bedroll wrapped around her. She walked to Carameth and took a seat next to him on the stone. "Is everything alright?" she asked him.
"All is well. Why do you ask?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "I had this dream and I woke up, and it felt like something was wrong. You sure things are okay?" She looked around for herself, unable to see clearly, her eyes not yet adjusted to the Morran night.
"Yes. Belemeriath is scouting nearby, too." There was a pause in the conversation.
"So this dream," Mia began. She told Carameth about her dream. Then she began to cry, yet she knew not why. She only knew that tears were there and needed to come out. Carameth put an arm about her shoulder. She sunk into his arm. Both arms. The feeling was exciting on one hand, but not on the hand she needed at the moment. Right now she really just wanted to cry. A little.
On the other side of the fire, Finnegaff lay watching the two. He nearly rose. He hesitated, electing to observe. He was all too aware of the attraction between Mia and the Prince of Elves. It was not that he disapproved, not at all! It was simply that they had a task at hand, a quest of great importance. He needed no such distraction! Dealing with this sort of issue was not his strong point, his awkwardness being most prevalent when it involved the youth. In fact, it was probably his weakest area, despite urgings spanning centuries from his beloved Marigaff, who ultimately maintained that Finnegaff would 'never get on’ with any sort of insight for managing youthful conduct. He supposed that he would intervene if necessary. He knew, at least he hoped, he would not have to. It was for some time that Mia stayed with Carameth, perhaps a half an hour, when dawn began to shed the first deep blues of the coming day's light. Carameth excused himself. He hailed the others at the appointed time. They gathered their supplies together and took breakfast of commodities brought from Grand Centauria.
"We'll secure ourselves to each other with rope tied around the waist. Allow only a span between each of us." It was just before dawn. Finnegaff tied the end of a thin silvery rope about his mid-section as he briefed the party for the ten-mile journey through the Land of Lost Memories. Where they entered was known to be the shortest path. The forests of the Land were moderately dense with what indeed were very peculiar spindly trees. There was little ground cover, at least that Mia could see, as the entirety of the Land of Lost Memories was shrouded in a still, gray fog. Nothing could be seen moving within the Land for fifty feet or so, all the distance that their sight could penetrate the intimidating gloom. An eerie, demanding silence shrouded the Land of Lost Memories. Sound fell immediately dead, since the bizarre woods had the acoustics of a library. Mosses hung from branches everywhere, tattered sheets of the plants hanging as rotting cloths long forgotten. Many of the trees were ages dead, their twiggy branches cold, skeletal fingers that reached into the gloom.
"The inhabitants of the Land of Lost Memories are limited to small, shy animals and fogs." Finnegaff continued the briefing. "Fogs are thought to be the living memories of those lost in the Land, blown off course by the twisted magic here. Some think the fogs are ghosts. I believe the living memories theory. Yes. Well.” Finnegaff paused to light his pipe. “Fogs,” he continued, “seem to have the belief that if they could steal an outsider's memories, they themselves would be released from their eternal prison, when in fact the victim they prey upon would become one of them: not dead, not alive, wandering forever lost."
"What of the horses?" Strongwind asked.
"Horses don't see or feel the effects of fogs." Finnegaff answered. "We'll have the horses carry all of our belongings to free us of distractions."
"How do they steal your memories?" Mia, eying the impending gloom, had a slight sick feeling in her stomach.
"Nobody knows. What is known is that they enter one's mind through one's eyes when eye contact is made. Do not, no matter the urge, look at them. Close your eyes if need be and allow the rope to guide you. They can't touch you, but they can cause your will to stray. I'll lead, and Miagaff, Romessee, Carameth and Strongwind shall take the rear. Belemeriath can fly over the land and meet us on the other side. Do not step from the path; if you should wander too far, you will not be able to defeat the wills of the fogs. Have any of you made this journey?" he asked them all.
"I have," Carameth replied as he secured the rope about his waist. The rest shook their heads. "I've found that to watch the ground in front of me is best."
"Good advice," confirmed Finnegaff. He looked to Mia. "Saa doesn't work all that well in the Land of Lost Memories. Saa will, however, perform unexpectedly and unpredictably. Control your thoughts, Miagaff. You could accidentally invoke Saa and have no idea what you did."
Mia's eyebrows knitted. “How weird,” she said.
Romessee spoke up. "Let's just walk straight through looking to the ground as Carameth suggested."
Finnegaff nodded, eyebrows raised.
"It r
eally is that simple,” Carameth said. “It's just that fogs are, well,” Carameth searched for a softer word than frightening.
Romessee, using her gift, 'felt' what Carameth was struggling to say and helped. "Scary," she smiled.
Carameth nodded and looked at Mia out of the corner of his eye. "Yes. Scary."
"It really is that simple.” Finnegaff eyed each of the company. “Remember: fight the urge by thinking of other things, because they will tempt you to look. Don't do it, not even for a second. That's all it takes for them to take you." He locked his eyes on their path ahead for a moment. His voice was deep and quiet when he did speak. "Let's go!" The party then took to the dismal gloom of the Land of Lost Memories.
Strongwind, after the manner of Centaurs, asked the horses one by one to follow and that they did. Mia had butterflies in her stomach as she stepped into the hot, damp mist. The sun disappeared almost immediately, yet not wholly, and the diffusion of the gray, non-directional light made it impossible for Mia to tell where the sun was. The path was of packed dirt, more like damp, mossy soil. Greenish-gray ferns grew to the sides of the path. Occasions there were to duck to avoid hanging mosses or to step over small fallen logs. The heat was nearly unbearable. All of them sweat profusely in the high humidity.
They traveled in this fashion for a mile or so, and Mia was beginning to believe that nothing was going to happen. She had just relaxed a little when she was swept with a slight uncomfortable nausea. A low, distant, drawn-out mournful voice sounded. Despite the heat, every goose bump Mia had available to her, and perhaps a few that weren't, raised. The direction of the droning voice was indeterminable. Mia's eyes swept the area.
"Don't look!" Finnegaff called. "They've found us! All eyes to the ground. Let's slow down a little."
That they should slow down was something Mia didn't care to hear, but she really had little choice. She looked at the ground, eyes wide, when she caught a glimpse of a white apparition, a moving mass of fog about the size of a horse. The hollow voice was loud now, much louder. Mia could tell that the fogs were saying something in another language, the words slurred with heavy vowels. Nausea swept her as her eyes met the fog. She reeled. Her mind was fuzzy, somewhat like being intoxicated yet not. Her heart raced and her body trembled almost uncontrollably. Mia clamped her eyes closed. She tucked her head to her chin and grasped the rope in front of her with both hands. The section of rope connecting her to Romessee tightened. She was scared, mortified at having made the error of sighting the fog. What it had done to her petrified her. Fear swept her, near panic. She couldn't run from the fog, and was unable to hide from them. She was trapped! Mia felt like crying, but then the nausea left, as did the fuzziness, curbing the urge to cry into submission. The fogs had attempted to invade her mind! Going on with her eyes closed thus was not an option. She had to try something! She cupped her hands to the sides of her eyes and kept them focused on the ground. The rope tightened. Finnegaff guided her along the path by the waist. She opened her eyes, still viewing not much more area than where her feet shuffled. As she slowly broadened her field of view, the hem of Finnegaff's robe could be seen well enough to follow. The eerie voices were everywhere now, to her left, to her right, even from above.
The apparitions, the fogs, circled the group from all directions. When they would collide, no notice on their part was apparent, for they would pass through one another as if the other had not been there at all. They never ventured closer than two spans from the party at any time, and were often farther away. The forest was alive with them, alive but in a manner of speaking, of course, for they were not truly alive. They crowded in all directions for a hundred feet or more, including up. The mournful voices were now plentiful and dominated all sound. Though not loud as one might believe, they were intermixed, and so jumbled were the voices that it sounded like a low buzz. Mia was still shaking in fear.
On and on they trudged for hours after this fashion when the buzzing, the chatter of the fogs, suddenly ceased. She thought that perhaps they had passed through to the Mantadian side, but the gray, dim random directional sunlight had remained the same. She was afraid to look up and nearly bumped into Finnegaff, having not noticed that he had come to an abrupt halt. Romessee, who had also not noticed the halt, bumped her from behind. She was pushed forward into Finnegaff's back, who was forced to take another step to keep his balance. They gathered themselves.
"They're gone!" Finnegaff said in amazement.
"Can I look now?" Romessee beat Mia to the question.
"Yes. Yes," Finnegaff answered. "This is weird," he said as he surveyed the landscape.
"What be peculiar, wizard friend?" Strongwind looked as if he had not slept in some time.
"That the fogs have left us. Ordinarily they'd follow us to the border." His eyes continued to scan the forest.
Mia raised her head and reluctantly lowered her hands. The wood appeared the same; it all looked alike anyway. But there were no fogs within sight or sound.
“Something isn't right,” Finnegaff said. He continued to peer through the woods. "Let's go!" They hadn't taken but a score of steps when a crackling sound came from above, as if hundreds of men were walking through a leafy autumn forest floor. They all looked upward to witness a black cloud. Black, yet unlike the gray fog, this was clear, as is a glass that might contain a dark tint. It was like a giant black blanket lowering from the heights for as far as one could see, yet affected neither branch nor moss as it engulfed all in its path. In seconds it was upon them. The crackling stopped when the blanket met ground.
They looked about in amazement at each other, then to their surroundings. Mia had the sensation of being under water. The air thickened and quickly became stifling. Breathing became hard, very hard. Finnegaff urged the group onward. The clear, dark blanket instilled a deafening silence. Even Finnegaff's words were muffled. Breathing became even more difficult. In moments, the party had been forced to halt, unable to breathe. Carameth was on one knee. Finnegaff tried to say something but was unable to. Romessee was on all fours, head down, gasping in vain for a breath. All three horses were lying down.
Mia’s head became light. Her legs felt like lead; they would no longer support her. She fell to her knees and tried with all her might to draw air into her lungs from the soup-thick black nightmare. Breathing was impossible. Panic set in.