Solstice (Pt. 7)
And she was back. Nama spoke, insistently.
Remember what you saw. Thats it. Back. Back and back andthere you are.
Ryoka stood on the ground of the dirt road. Behind her, the forest lay, perfectly tree-like. No vast world-roots, though. Just trees. Sixty feet high, maybe.
The city lay ahead of her, more like a broken, run-down metropolis. Likea nuclear wastelands version of a city. New York with about a week of anarchy.
The mob of fae were running too, like the Summer Guests, just more insectile. They shouted insults in normal language. Ryoka shuddered.
And here was Nama. The woman held Ryoka another second, then let go.
There. All better? I didnt think youd run into them the first instant. Or youd be so unwise as to not listen to sense.
Ryoka hung her head. Then threw up. Nama tsked, and backed away. Ryoka, shuddering, looked at her. She wanted to cut off her feet rather than stand on the ground.
I sawthe forest! The city! Everything is
No its not. You just saw that.
I know what I saw. Its all twisted! Its allwhy were you the same?
Why would I not be? You may see me as I am. Not as what your mind makes me.
Nama smacked Ryoka on the head with the spoon. Ryoka clutched at her ringing skull.
Somehow, that made it better. She looked around.
Then the forest isnt a grove of flesh and insects and?
Would I live there if it was? You just saw the worst nature of that lot. Theyre not the Summer Court. Or the Winter Court. Tsk, tsk. Now youve upset them. You wont get through the city. The forest it must be. And the winter folk have your scent.
Nama sighed. Ryoka hung her head. But the hostess just adjusted her apron.
Come now. Ill take you. It seems I must. Stop crying and follow me. We can stop at my place for another quick rest. You surely need it.
She took Ryokas hand and led her back into the forest. Ryoka kept looking behind her, fearfully.
Butwas that a Dragon? He was a child, with a stick. And then
Of course he is. A brave child. He must have decided to go there rather than fight with the others for space in the forest, though.
But he had a stick
I wonder what it was. Dont you remember? Perception, Ryoka. Perception. What you see is half of reality.
And the other half?
Actual reality. Now, come along. We had better hope the cold hunters dont find us. Even I wont be able to keep you safe.
Back into the forest. Behind them lay the ruined city. Ryoka looked at Nama.
What happened? This is the land of the fae, isnt it?
The one with your friend, certainly.
The woman smiled sadly. Ryoka shuddered.
But its sowhat happened here? Why is it so broken? Why is it so empty?
She had seen so few people here. Nama looked at Ryoka, and the answer came to the Wind Runner unbidden. The empty home of her hostess. The city. The young boywho was also alone, his lair made among the ruins.
They had died.
The lands of the fae had seen tragedy too. The question was: why? How?
The answers lay before her. The Wind Runner followed Nama into the forest. They picked up the pace.
They had to hurry.
Time was running out.
-
But an hour had passed since sunset in Riverfarm. The Unseen Empire was dark. The party was ongoing in the village.
Of the special place? Nothing. No one crossed the boundary. Those who had a question for Emperor Laken, or business with any of the nobles, did not seek them out. They were busy. Obviously.
It was as if everyone had forgotten it existed.
A lot of weird things were happening. Not just the gathering of theguests. Something was up. Worldwide.
Ulvama felt it. She kept staring at the sky. She went around, poking Goblins.
Up! Up! Get pack! Get ready!
She kicked Leafarmor and Raidpear, but the Hobgoblins were sitting. In depression. Ulvama made a tsking sound and then rounded on the Cave Goblin in the pot.
Pebblesnatch! Get ready to go!
The Cave Goblin said nothing. She was sobbing into her hat. Ulvama stared up at the sky again.
That power! And she felt uneasy at what she had forgotten. The party? The [Shaman] felt the power of the day. She grabbed Pebblesnatch.
We leave! Today!
The Goblins didnt respond. Grief had overwhelmed them. Ulvama smacked Pebblesnatch on the head, but lightly. The [Cook] didnt even move.
The [Shaman] stormed back to her tent. She stared at the door, claws clenching and unclenching. It wasnt open!
But shed doubled the mana stones. Shed only get one chance
Something was wrong on the other side. But this was the time when the power was strongest! The [Shaman] cursed, sweating. She wanted to be through. No matter what lay beyond. She stared up at the sky. Then at the shadows.
Anywhere else was better than here.
-
Nearly done. Nearly
Aaron was sweating. But he leaned away before the sweat ruined the complex pattern he was tracing.
It wasnt hard. And it was hard. He was just copying the design Emerrhain was showing him. But that was still intensely difficult, even broken down.
What am I doing?
Hurrying. You must hurry.
The wise man said. The scholar looked at Aaron and the young man kept tracing on the ground.
Why?
Time is running out.
The young [Mage], Blackmage, half-nodded as he continued the painstaking work. He thought about stopping. But he did not. He
Thought about stopping.
-
Time was fleeting on this day of days for all. For all of mortality, the world passed by soslowly.
Yet here, in this place, time was immortal. Seconds became days for those of other ilk. Only on the Solstice did time align. And thenonly for other places.
This place in the forest was not a rotten graveyard. Nor beset by wildlife. It was a sanctuary. A place so powerful that the forest around it was peaceful, untroubled by any other, be it beast or person.
Stories. Stories made up this land, for all the stories of late had been so, so sad. Yet all stories flowed through this place.
Avalon.
The sword sat in the stone as it ever had. A blade beyond compare, of immortal make. Waiting for the hand to take it. Not any old sword in the stone, either.
The sword. The stone.
The young woman stumbled into the clearing quite by chance. She was panting. In the distance, for the first time in ages, the sound of battle broke the tranquil forest.
Frost lay on her skin. Behind her, the roar of a great protector battled the howling winds of the coldest foes. The young woman was panting. She saw the sword. The stone.
Three figures turned from their contemplation of the sword. The young woman blinked.
Ryoka Griffin saw a boy, barely ten in age, a young man in his mid-twenties, and a man near fifty turn. Each one was dressed differently.
One, in a squires tunic, hair frazzled. The second, in splendid armor, a crown on his head.
The thirdarmor broken. Blood, mortal wounds covering his body. His crown broken. It didnt seem to bother him.
The three stood there. And they were allsimilar. Hair the same. Features changed by age. But the same.
Ryoka Griffin stared at the sword. Then the men. One of them blinked at her. The oldest man coughed after a second.
Greetings, stranger. Do you too come for this blade?
He gestured atRyoka stared at the sword. The stone. She glanced over her shoulder. Namas battle against the Wild Hunt seemed far away. Each cry stretching out until she stood in a moment between such things.
Oh no. This cant be happening.
She looked at the three-in-one. The sword. The oldest man with the broken crown raised his brows.
What cant be happening? Come, traveller. And tell us why the Winter Court hunts you so.
He beckoned. Ryoka approached, staring, eyes wide. She stared at the boy. He waved at her. The young man looked her up and down. Then he did a double-take.
Are your feet bared? What curious customs some people have.
Of all theRyoka gazed at him. Then she looked at the stone.
No way. Just to be clearhi. My names Ryoka.
She was panting. She switched through her layers of reality. Mundanity, epiceven horror and despondence. She had the trick of it, now. Each one revealed nothing different.
Sword. Stone. The three. The boy held out a hand.
Hello. Were pleased to meet you.
Sit, Miss Ryoka. Sit. Time will not touch you here. Even the other fae are respectful. The Wild Hunt will not trouble you. Ive ridden with them myself. What cause have they to hunt you? Pettiness?
The young King assured her. Ryoka sat, despairing.
Meeting after meeting. She explained an abbreviated version of why she was here and the three nodded.
Other worlds. Mine seems so small and insignificant, my kingdom so small at times. Yetmy legacy endures?
The oldest Arthur turned to Ryoka, greedy for assurances. She hesitated.
After a fashion, Your Majesty. You seeI dont know if you ever were on my world. Historically? Im not sure. Butthey tell stories of you.
Stories?
The oldests face fell. Ryoka winced.
Thats all they have.
Does Albion not stand in your world?
Um.
Ryoka didnt want to get into geopolitical events of Earth. But Arthur demanded to know. He raked a hand through his bloodied hair, dislodging the fragments of crown. Then he stood.
Stories. I commanded the greatest kingdom the world had ever seen. The deeds of my knights struck awe and hope into the hearts of all who heard them and fear into that of all of Albions foes! And that is all Camelotall my kingdom
He trailed off, shaking his head. The younger two watched him anxiously. At last, the old King laughed.
Perhaps that is all I can hope for. My great kingdom was the seed of the next nation. Perhapsstories are enough of a legacy for any man. So long as they remember chivalry and honor, let it endure.
He reached for the sword. Ryoka felt a chill at those grave eyes, the sad smile. The oldest King turned to the others.
I will not change my mind. That is for you two to decide.
Ryoka felt so sorry for this manwho had a rough life despite all his triumphs. She longed to say something, but she didnt feel she belonged here.
And yetthe three seemed glad of her presence. The young man frowned.
If not me, then the burden will fall to someone else. I only wonder if I am the right one for this blade. If there is a better kinglet them take the sword.
There are many. We are reflected across many stories. Or so the fae claim. And Merlin. But theyre tricky and he is a liar. I hate Merlin.
The oldest Arthur sighed. The young King nodded, a touch uncertainly. Ryoka wanted to take notes. She had no notion that Arthur had ridden with the Wild Hunt. Or was it alluded to in some story? And Erin was here? Well, there were stories of mortals walking the worlds in dreams. Even soand Erin had just grabbed the sword. Typical.
I bet I couldnt even pull that damn thing if I tried, but my friend got it out.
The other Arthurs chuckled. The young King leaned over conspiratorially.
You see, its actually not hard. Anyone can do it. Its a twist of the wrist as you pull.
What? No way. Really?
Yes, Im joking.
King Arthur laughed at her dumbfounded expression. The old man and young King fell over themselves laughing and back-slapping while the boy gave Ryoka a long-suffering look of sympathy. Clearly, Arthur changed from time to time.
Presently, they calmed down. It seemed this was their fate. When they drew the blade, they would rise once more to their fates. It was just this reflection of them that remained, to know all and choose forever.
It sucked. But that was the kind of thing old stories loved. Ask Sisyphus. Actuallyif Ryoka met him, shed break that stupid boulder. She doubted it, since it was the wrong mythology, but shed always felt bad for him. And Prometheus.
I think I have to go. Namamy protectoris helping me go in. And she might get hurt. They found us, you see.
Mm. I dont know the whole of it, but it seems a young woman such as yourself does not deserve the Faerie Kings wrath. He can becapricious. Although I have heard he has lost his wife.
Ershe might have run off with a mortal again. She did it once, I think. There may be a story about that?
The old Arthur coughed. The boy turned red as the young King rolled his eyes.
And Guinevere is going to do the same? Wonderful. Maybe I wont draw the blade.
Its your fault. I mean, mine. And Mordred. If only we could undo it. Try to remember.
The oldest Arthur seized the younger one, caught for a moment by fresh emotion. The younger one nodded, trying desperately to fix the knowledge in his memory that history might change.
What tragedy. Ryoka looked away for a moment and then had a thought.
Listen. Guys. I dont know if this is right to saybut maybe I can clear up your dilemma?
The three Arthurs turned, eagerly.
How so, Lady Griffin?
Ryoka flushed at the attention.
Welltheres this thing called the time travellers paradox. Basically, if one of you is from the future, then hes already done everything that leads up to him going back in time. Sotheres no point deliberating because youve already chosen. Itsbasiclogic
She trailed off lamely. The three were staring at her. And all three were glaring.
If shes my descendants of descendants or what humanity looks like after my reign, maybe I wont pull the sword out. Whats the point?
The boy kicked a clod of grass. Ryoka lifted her hands.
Look, guys. Its just logic
Have you learned nothing? Logic matters little with such things here. I am choosing. And right now, Id rather a drink.
The young King leaned on the stone grumpily. Even the old one looked annoyed. Arthur gestured at the stone.
I could choose not to. Even now. Even from whatever time you come from, Ryoka Griffin.
She smiled, half-uncertainly.
Yeah, but if you did
I could choose not to.
And then there was silence. Ryoka Griffin and time froze uncertainly as King Arthur stood over the stone. He looked at her. Her tongue was stuck in her teeth.
ImIm going to go. Sorry. Very sorry. I annoy everyone. Please pull out the sword. Ill just
She walked backwards to the very edge of the clearing. Until time began to follow her, also running from that eternal moment. Also, kicking her in the back of the head for nearly unmaking reality as they knew it.
The two Kings and the squire looked after her. Slowly, they looked at each other. Murmuring. Ryoka turned.
Im sorry. I just want to find my friend. And I dont want Nama or anyone else to die. Thank youIll remember meeting you forever.
She turned away. Knowing she would and wishing she could speak longer. Longershe heard a voice calling out after her.
Miss Ryoka!
Arthur the squire stood by the sword in the stone. He shook his head.
Im but a boy. And he is a dying old man.
He gestured at the old man, who glowered at the youngest Arthur. The boy returned the gaze, steadfast. The last King Arthur spoke.
But I am the Arthur of your stories. You say they tell stories of me?
They do, King of Camelot!
She shouted, tears springing to her eyes as he smiled by his terrible burden. The King nodded, pleased.
Then. Chivalry is not dead. Nor will it ever be. Nor is it now.
She didnt know what he meant. But then she saw the young man reach down. His crown shone golden. His armor gleamed.
He drew Caliburn from the stone. And raised it high overhead.
The world went still. Ryoka stared as the young man strode towards her. No
King Arthur Pendragon. He held the blade aloft as the other two remained. Walking out of the clearing, into the forest consumed by a winters storm. Fearless. He saluted Ryoka as he walked.
I have never left a maiden in distress. Nor do I fear the Winter Court. Come, milady. Let us find your friend and rescue your great protector.
He offered her an arm to rest upon, in the fashions of old. Ryoka Griffin stared at him. She stared at the arm. She edged away from the arm, but then she bowed.
Are you sure?
The King of Chivalry smiled. He stepped beyond the glade and was engulfed in winter. Ryokas skin frozethe world became a howling snowstorm without direction.
The winter fae were everywhere. Great shapes; wolves of the end time bounding about the lone figure in the blizzard. Somehow, she was keeping them all back. Ryoka threw up an arm as her body turned to ice in front of the wind
But the light of Caliburn protected her. The winter fae spotted her and the warrior in icy armor charged at her, lifting the blade no one had matched.
He did not see the young King until it was too late. Did not expect any foe but Ryoka. The blade swung upand the winter warriors blade was blown backwards. The ringing sound halted the other figures in the blizzard. They turned as one, and saw the light.
Caliburn swung down, and the blow sent even the faerie kings champion stumbling back. The King of Chivalry shouted, and knocked aside an arrow made of hoarfrost as it sped at Ryokas chest. He blurred as he whirled the sword around and the Wild Hunt charged himand fell back.
Ryoka saw it now. It was a sword and an idea. It was a kingdom, the kingdom made then, and in the future, when the Once and Future King returned to reclaim his lost kingdom, when his subjects needed him most.
It was all those things. To break it, you would have to break all those things at once. And the immortal skill of the faeKing Arthur turned in the howling winds and locked blades with another warrior of the Wild Hunt.
The fae was pressed backwards. The man laughed. He had all the knowledge of his life, before and after! In this placehe looked at Ryoka as Caliburns light forced the others back.
Ill return it in time. But unless the Winter Court would try to slay the King of Knights, let them flee!
He laughed into the storm as he advanced and the fae fell back. Ryoka saw Nama waving her spoon amid the snow and vast figures. She stared at King Arthurs back.
Fairytales. Ryoka Griffin stumbled forwards as winter drew back. The King charged alone and scattered an army before him.
For the King of Innkeepers who will never be! For honor time and time again!
She would have followed him forever. But he was doing this for her. Ryoka turned as someone clutched her arm. Nama pointed.
In! In! We are not far now.
They ran, past trees and figures who poked their heads out of the trunks themselvesthey were trees! Nymphs? Ryoka saw a few denizens of the forest come alive, wondering. The King of Chivalry was a sight even here. They stared at Ryoka.
More mortals, today?
Her head turned, but the gawking Dryad was just there a moment.
They ran and ran. And on this day of days, this day, amid meetings both foul and fair, as the faerie kings warriors tried to keep her from breaching his will
Ryoka Griffin ran out of the forest. Out of the second layer of the realm of the fae and deeper still. She heard the distant horns fading. The clash of blades disappear.
In.