Chapter 3

It was the day after Midsummer’s Day. The day after perhaps the most important date in the Faery calendar. A teenage Faery princess named Zarinda was playing alone in the Sylfranian Faery forest community, in the province of Ainderbury, near to the border with the human port town of Gaggleswick. This was as close as she was legally allowed to get to the infamous Black Tower. Closer than her father, Prince Travarin, would be happy with, she knew. He didn’t approve of Dreya the Dark and was horrified by his daughter’s long-standing fascination with her. The only Sylfranian Faery noble to escape.

She’d heard that their Quarthonian Faery cousins were not so strict about such things, but in Sylfrania, things were still very much ordered along traditional lines. Given that she was, at her last count, something like thirty-sixth in line to the throne, one wouldn’t think royal tradition would touch her overmuch. Unfortunately, her father had always had a chip on his shoulder about being the youngest son and ran his minor province as if it were his own private kingdom.

Zarinda wished she had the courage to do what Dreya had done and walk away from it all. The sorceress had got away because, to her noble family, their concern for their daughter was outweighed by the shame of admitting she was seeking magic instruction from humans. Especially in an Order other than the White. On the one hand, Zarinda didn’t think that was right, but on the other hand, she wished her parents felt the same so she could escape as Dreya had.

Even if she had such an opportunity, where would she go? What would she do? Compared to Dreya, who had always had a clear plan for her life, Zarinda knew she was drifting. She didn’t know what she wanted, beyond a vague wish that one day, her hero would take her away from all this. Rescue her.

Right now, though, she was the one doing the rescuing. A fledgeling sparrow had fallen out of its nest and injured itself on the ground, trying to fly the nest before it was ready. Zarinda felt sure there was a life lesson in there, somewhere.

She could see her own rescue so clearly, when she closed her eyes. Zarinda was always older in her dreams. In her early twenties, she thought. It was Midsummer’s Day, and she was getting married to some Faery boy that she barely knew, as traditionally arranged by her father. In principle, she knew she could always say no to such a union, but that would take a lot of effort. Too much. Besides, once again, it wasn’t as if she had an alternative plan for her life, so she supposed she might as well stick with tradition.

But in her dreams, just as the marriage was about to be finalised, a black-robed figure thundered into the outdoor wedding chapel on horseback. The hood fell from the mage’s head, revealing it was Dreya the Dark, sending out her magic all around. Nothing could stop her or even slow her down. All those around Zarinda had fallen in seconds. She didn’t think they were dead, though. Dreya didn’t kill indiscriminately. She would use precisely as much power as was necessary to achieve her goal, and it seemed her goal was Zarinda.

“I need you,” Dreya told her, and used her magic to levitate Zarinda onto her horse, snatching her from the altar.

Zarinda would have gone with her anyway, but it did save her from the awkwardness of trying to mount a horse in her bridal gown. Her dreams never specified exactly why Dreya would want to take her away from all her troubles, saving her from the prison of her arranged marriage. All she ever said were those three words: ‘I need you.’

The princess found the thought thoroughly entertaining and wonderfully thrilling. Her heart was beating rapidly, just thinking about it now. She had even composed a song, a ballad, that told the whole story. Her father had caught her singing it once, and he had not been happy. That was a long time ago, now, but she knew he had neither forgotten nor forgiven her. Her father insisted it was nonsense, just a silly daydream, but she knew it was more than that. It was prophecy. It had to be.

Zarinda could scarcely believe her father had done something so foolish as to send clerics to attack Dreya, a few years ago. She was grateful that the sorceress had had the restraint to not kill her father for his actions. She might not see eye-to-eye with him on some things, but she wouldn’t want to lose him. He was still an outspoken critic of Dreya’s, but at least he knew better than to do anything about it now.

Her father might not like her ballad, but her injured feathered audience seemed to have a different view. Holding the bird gently in her hands as she softly sang to it, Zarinda could feel its pain and distress fade.

Seeing that, Zarinda switched songs, choosing her favourite lullaby from when she was little: ¹

 

Angels among us, stars in the night,

Watch o’er your sleep, shining so bright,

Safe in their light, as you close your eyes,

Love will surround you, ‘til morning you rise.

 

Angels among us, shed you no tears,

Bright Angels guard you, quiet your fears,

Nature’s embrace, is gentle and strong,

Love will surround you, all your life long.

 

Her parents had always sung it in the traditional Faery language, but Zarinda had learned it in the human tongue from a book written by none other than Catriona Redfletching. She who was now one of the Three Guardians, alongside Mandalee the White Assassin and, of course, her hero, Dreya the Dark.

Before she’d finished singing the lullaby a second time, the little fledgeling stirred in her hands, fluttered its wings and somehow found the strength to achieve the flight that had eluded it a few moments ago.

“I guess all you needed was a helping hand,” Zarinda decided.

She was pretty sure there was a life lesson there, too.

As the fledgeling flew, it chirped at her Faery rescuer. Zarinda had heard that the White Guardian, Mandalee, could speak animal languages. Zarinda didn’t have that ability, but she felt she knew a ‘thank you’ when she heard one.

Good deed for the day done, Zarinda settled back down to watch what was going on in the grounds of the Black Tower. A few years ago, Zarinda had learned that when she was very quiet and still, if she softly hummed a tune to herself – it didn’t seem to matter what the song was – she could project her senses quite a way in the distance. This was her favourite spot from which to do that. From this vantage point, a few days earlier, she had seen some kind of round blue doorway open up in midair, through which Dreya had flown on the back of a gigantic lizard creature. Zarinda had been terrified, but she needn’t have worried: Dreya had everything under control, as always.

Zarinda had argued with her father about that. Why was he so against her? She’d learnt about the Black Tower’s only previous owner, Ulvarius, in school, so she knew how much worse things could be if a tyrant like him were in residence. But Dreya wasn’t like him, not like other Black robe wizards. She didn’t lose control like that. Her father was convinced that one day she would. He insisted they were ‘storing up trouble’ by allowing her to remain living there…or even to remain living.

The princess didn’t understand how he could talk like that and yet be willing to meet with someone like Laethyn, Black robe wizard leader and Triumvirate representative, there in Ainderbury where humans were, if not quite banned, then at least strongly discouraged by way of a highly selective visa system. That meeting had taken place just after Dreya had met with Laethyn in her grounds and handed over that flying lizard.

Zarinda didn’t trust Laethyn. She didn’t like him. She was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to know about his visit – she only knew about it at all thanks to her long-distance seeing – so she’d kept her knowledge secret. Laethyn scared her. She wouldn’t be afraid of Dreya if she met her…well, maybe a little…but not like she was scared of Laethyn. She couldn’t imagine what business he could possibly have had with her father, or why the wizard had given him that red jewel. That jewel scared her, too. It gave her a funny feeling in her tummy when she looked at it from far away. She didn’t want to see it up close.

Shuddering as if with a sudden chill, Zarinda did her best to put such thoughts from her mind, in favour of remembering more pleasant events.

Only yesterday, she had watched something remarkable. Being Midsummer, many betrothals and weddings were happening throughout Sylfrania, and many royal family members were in attendance at the more ‘important’ ones, but nobody was interested in having the thirty-sixth in line to the throne getting underfoot, so she’d been left to her own devices. As usual.

She didn’t mind. In fact, she was glad of it, because as far as she was concerned, she’d attended the most important betrothal of all: Dreya the Dark had proposed to Catriona Redfletching. They had been living together for a few years, of course, except when Catriona went off on some grand adventure as she was wont to do. Scandalous rumours had been circulating in the Ainderbury court for a while about those two. Most people didn’t think it was really true, but Zarinda now knew it was because she’d been there. At least, that’s how she saw it.

OK, none of the others had seen her – not Mandalee, not the happy couple, and not those two purple aliens that had appeared a few days ago – and she hadn’t actually set foot beyond the boundaries of Sylfrania. Still, Princess Zarinda had watched it all, and as far as she was concerned, that meant she’d been there.

*****

Current events pulled her out of her memories in favour of the here and now. Something was going on over by the Black Tower, this morning. It was like the grounds were changing, growing wilder. The undead gardeners began to leave their perpetual weeding and exchange their tools for weapons.

The sky overhead grew darker, clouds drew in, and a storm blew up. Storms weren’t supposed to suddenly start like that. Zarinda had heard that Catriona had druid magic that could control the weather, but somehow this didn’t seem like her handiwork. Something was going very wrong with the Black Tower.

Zarinda heard one of the two aliens scream, “Help!” as both the garden plants and the undead guards started attacking them. She and the other alien pulled out strange weapons that sent out beams of light that seemed intended to be somehow lethal. They weren’t much use against the undead, but they were at least burning the attacking plants.

“Cat! Dreya! Come quick!” the other called out. “It’s gone all Day of the Triffids meets Dawn of the Dead out here!”

Zarinda had no idea what she meant by that, and neither, apparently, did Catriona, as she stuck her head out of a window.

“Are you doing movie references again?” she asked. What little Zarinda could see of her robes seemed quite dusty, and there was a black smudge on her left cheek. “You know we’re not going to get those.”

Then the druidess saw what was happening and called Dreya, whose own usually deep black velvet robes had turned decidedly grey. She joined her fiancée at the window and saw the aliens’ plight. They had both abandoned their guns in favour of slashing with knives which, despite their small size, were highly effective.

More of the Black Tower’s defences were awakening and advancing on their houseguests.

“I don’t understand,” Dreya frowned in puzzlement. “I haven’t used my defences for years!”

Worse, she realised, some of them weren’t her defences – they had been put there by Ulvarius.

“How is this possible?” she wondered.

She had destroyed most of those defences herself because, as she’d told Catriona when they’d first met, she wasn’t insecure enough to jump at every shadow that passed across her land. But somehow, they were back.

“Concentrate, Dreya!” Cat rebuked her, gently. “Rescue now, reason why later, yes?”

Dreya shook her head as if to clear it of distractions. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

She immediately teleported them both to stand with the aliens and defend them.

Taking in the sight of their friends, one of the aliens asked, “What have you been doing? Fighting a horde of dust monsters?”

Dreya shook her head. “Just clearing out my junk room.”

“It’s going to be the nursery,” Cat explained further.

Zarinda could tell from the aliens’ expressions that they, like she, thought that was the cutest thing ever.

Following their betrothal, the two of them had enjoyed their own private celebration in the bedroom. Then, since sleep seemed to elude them both, they had been up half the night working on the nursery project. While Dreya had been sorting, Cat had been cleaning the walls of years of dust and dirt, including one particularly stubborn scorch mark that was proving tough to remove even with magic. Dreya had no idea how it had come to be there; presumably, a legacy from an Ulvarius temper tantrum, three hundred years ago.

“Like you said, Cat,” Dreya put in. “Fight now, chat later, yes?”

Cat conceded that they needed to focus.

“You sort out the plants and calm the weather, and I’ll tear down these defences. Again,” she added with an annoyed frown.

Her fiancée nodded her agreement.

Then the onlooking Zarinda got the shock of her life as an image of the Dark sorceress loomed over her.

“And you go and find someone else to spy on!” boomed the image. “You’re very distracting!”

With a squeal, Zarinda shot up and ran home. OK, so maybe she was a bit scared of Dreya, and perhaps the sorceress considered her a pest and a nuisance now. But she was sure that one day, when she was older, Dreya the Dark was going to rescue her and say those three beautiful words:

“I need you.”