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Chapter 655: The Castle of Wonders
🕑 Added 2023-08-18 21:25:14 +0000 UTCClouds of white and grey hid the castle’s highest towers.
Below them, on the peak of a lofty mountain, the castle rose from a forest of gold and scarlet, filling the horizon. An irregular facade of silver stones glittered in the moonlight, highlighting walls, roofs, and a host of towers spun from autumn leaves stronger than steel.
In the courtyards, fountains flowed with cider and mead, and every garden was abundant with luscious fruit, near bursting with magical juices. Stables and kennels housed war-horses, war-deer, coursing-hounds and other beasts that could race the wind.
At the end of a bridge, towering front gates forged of green copper with ivy wrapping around them, spanned a river that flowed up the mountain, into the castle, then into a reverse waterfall that surged upward into the endless sky, forming fluffy clouds of grey and white.
It was at the foot of this bridge that the fae known to many as the Guide, to some as the Stalker, and by other names to many more, was astride his mount, watching it snort golden clouds of steam from its snout.
The bells tinkled on the moose’ antlers and its cloven hooves pawed the bridge’s obsidian cobblestones.
“That’s right boy,” the Guide patted the steed’s neck. “You’ll be seeing all of your siblings in Lord Aenflynn’s stable soon, so, you just wait for a moment. I don’t get to come to his big house as often as I’d like, so I’ll just bask a little, if it’s all the same to you.”
And the Stalker did bask, taking in the wonders of the lord’s castle: the faeries flitting about the walls, and the tamed beasts and birds flying between the towers. He listened to the rushing river, ears attuned to fish jumping through foaming water, and the laughter of otters chasing them. His nostrils flared as they caught the delicate scent of wildflowers drifting from behind Aenflynn’s high walls.
“Ah, by all the fae lords, I missed this place.” The Stalker grinned. “Come, then, friend. Let’s go see him.”
With that, the Stalker tapped his heels to the sides of his mount, trotted over the bridge, and toward the titanic gates.
High above, heads poked from windows in a gatehouse, and a pair of Aenflynn’s soldiers fluttered down to the bridge on gossamer dragonfly wings. Their armour was woven of brown wood and green ivy, hugging their bodies like silk, but the Stalker knew their protection was sturdy enough to turn away most blades.
But not his.
This he knew from experience; he hadn’t always been so welcome in Lord Aenflyyn’s halls.
The two guards clutched spears of living wood capped with bronze tips, and it was with the greatest delight that the Stalker noticed their weapons quivering in their hands.
Good.
They were still frightened.
It was with these same spears that they now barred the Stalker’s way, crossing them in front of his mount.
“Greetings,” the guard on the left called, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. That fear was music to the shorter fae’s ears. “What business have you at Castle Glastonrock?”
“Oh, don’t be like that, old friend!” The Stalker threw his arms out, as though preparing to embrace the young guard. He was rewarded with a grimace. “Lord Aenflynn expects me, and I haven’t caused any ruckus here in over a thousand years! You can’t be a day over three hundred; I’ve never done anything to you. We’re all friends now!”
He let out a jolly laugh.
The other guard took a step back.
The Stalker laughed harder.
“W-we will have to confirm with Lord Aenflynn—” the first guard started.
“That will not be necessary,” said a voice that was not a voice, combining the roar of water, whisper of wind, and crackle of fire. It could only have come from the lord of the castle. “The Guide is expected.”
At that, the ivy around the gates writhed into life, pulling them apart. Green barricades slid open in eerie silence, making a dull thud when they struck the walls of the gatehouse.
Through the gateway was the first of Aenflynn’s many courtyards, a vast landscape filled with wildflowers in full summer bloom.
The Stalker offered the guards—who had quickly made way for him—an overly polite smile and nod. “You two do good work, but don’t let yourselves get too buried in duties; you never know when one of those duties might be your last.”
Their naked fear sent him into glee filled laughter, and he went on his way toward the castle, leaving them looking shaken.
After entrusting a waiting attendant with his moose, the Guide began climbing stairs through the many courtyards, bridges and walkways that made up the exterior of the fae lord’s citadel.
The short fae sighed, smiling nostalgically; in past adventures—during times when he’d found himself fleeing this place under less than ideal circumstances—these passages and courtyards had been far more confusing.
They used to contort around him in an ever changing maze, like the castle had come to life and was trying to stop him from escaping.
Mostly because it had.
It was a wonderfully entertaining puzzle, one he’d taken great delight in solving as he slaughtered any guard silly, or misguidedly brave enough to bar his way.
Oh, how fun those days were!
It was a pity that the castle was so depressingly compliant now, letting him pass with no trouble at all. Any old grudges between him and Aenflynn were long buried, every debt was paid, and the two were on boringly pleasant terms.
The sad thing was that the Stalker was comfortable enough with those terms to not cause any trouble, not even for the fun of it.
He gave a deep, sad sigh as he mounted a castle wall halfway up the towering citadel and began walking along a bridge of glowing glass leading to a tower separate from the main castle.
“I am getting old,” he chastised himself. “A younger me would’ve been cracking heads for chuckles. Bah! Ah well: youth for the young, they say. And wisdom for the wise.”
“A shame that you are neither,” Lord Aenflynn’s voice whispered along the wind.
The Stalker resisted the urge to shake his fist at the empty air as he finally reached the tower at the end of the bridge. It was a curious structure—even by fae standards—made of carved emerald—floating in the air seemingly unsupported.
Strange shadows moved in the green jewel’s facets, each seeming to whisper long dead secrets.
The Guide was reaching for the tower door, when it opened.
Inside, there stood a table of plain stone with two seats pushed against it, and a pair of cups sitting on it. Both were filled with a fine honey-wine that Aenflynn often drank and—frustratingly—refused to either share its name, or its source.
Long ago, the Stalker had promised he’d get that information out of him one day, one day still hadn’t come yet.
“So, you called for me, my lord?” he said, all smiles.
“Yes…I did.” Aenflynn answered, distantly.
He was tall, but as lean as a young willow branch. His face was touched by an unearthly beauty, and a laurel of ivy crowned his brow, sitting just above his pointed ears. His eyes were pools of silver light, seeming both ancient and shrewd, and were fixed on movement within the wall and ceiling.
The chamber’s interior was crafted from the same emerald as the rest of the tower, and inside each jewelled facet, a hazy image swam. With much difficulty, the Stalker recognised that he was seeing certain sights and scenes from across Aenflynn’s domain in the fae wild, along with the mortal realm of Thameland.
In all of his many years coming here, he’d never seen anything clearly, everything was always hazy, fog shrouded shadows, and silhouettes within the facets. Though, they had grown marginally clearer as the years passed.
From his understanding, where he saw only shadows, Lord Aenflynn saw clear images. And it was upon one of those images that the lord's gaze was now fixed.
“The hour grows late,” the fae lord said. “Very late. The sun and moon move quickly over this realm of Och Fir Nog.”
“Ooo a game of riddles!” The Stalker rubbed his hands together. “What fun! Mind if I have a seat?”
“We would be pleased if you did.”
“Good, good.” The small fae scuttled into the seat across from the lord and took a sip of honey-wine. “Mmm! That’s still mighty good, by bark and solstice! Ah! Feel like a little bet? How about if I win this game of riddles, you have to tell me the name of this wonderful—”
“No,” said Lord Aenflynn, his gaze fixed on the image.
“Oh, bah!” The Guide complained. “That’s no fun! Alright, the sun and moon grow quickly. The hour grows late: aye, you’re saying that time is running out for something. And time is running out faster than you thought—you’re saying, ‘days and nights are passing quickly’—is that right?”
“Fie,” Lord Aenflynn sighed, looking away from the facet. “You are less fun than you used to be. No puzzling nor struggling.”
“I am old and wise now, m’lord,” the Stalker said. “So what can I do for you? Need help speeding up plans.”
“You cannot do anything for me yet,” Lord Aenflynn said. “But we will need a certain service from you soon; for now, we seek information from you. How goes your quest to gain new hounds? How goes your hunt?”
The Stalker grinned, rolling his eyes. “Of course you would know about that. Well, so far, the hounds are motivated and the quarry’s good. The Fool of Thameland seems to be a wily one, gifted with strange powers. I’m sure he’ll be a fine challenge.”
“Good, we are pleased by this. You have our full blessing, and so we must ask this of you now.”
“You just said I couldn’t do anything for you right now.” The Stalker raised an eyebrow.
“That is true, but we aren’t asking you to do something. We are about to ask you to not do something.” Lord Aenflynn grinned, revealing sharp teeth.
“Bah! Cheap play on words.”
“What is cheaper, the play on words or the mind that fails to see through them? We know the answer,” Lord Aenflynn chuckled. “What you will not do is appear before the Sage, Chosen or Champion of Thameland for a time. Not until we say so.”
The Stalker paused in surprise. “Oh? That wouldn’t cause me any problems—I haven’t sworn to be by their side, I’ve just been helping them on your order. If your orders change, so be it. But wouldn’t that cause you to break an oath with them?”
Lord Aenflynn grinned, beginning to recite his exact oath. “One hundred and twenty of your monsters, to be given once per moon in groups of thirty or more, not less. In return, you will have the service of one of my fae warriors for every three monsters you provide me. In addition, you Heroes will have full access to the fae gates, letting you cross the five highways of my realm and quickening your travels across Thameland. Your armies will have use of the same, though you will all be under fae law while travelling through the fae wild. If any of you violate our laws, you will be subject to our punishments.”
He then mimicked the Chosen of Thameland. “Aye, got all that. An’ if we betray you, then you will command your fae warriors to set on us and rip us to shreds. If ya betray us, then any Ravener-spawn we’ve gifted t’ ya will make things nasty for ya. We’ll also have folk ready t’care fer yer elderly changelings in two moons’ time.”
Aenflynn’s grin widened. “Those are the words of the pact spoken between us.”
“Ahhhh…I see,” the Stalker said. “Betraying you…ah, that can have so many interpretations and the Heroes are subject to fae law in this land.”
“Indeed,” Lord Aenflynn said. “We are bound to give them and their armies access to the fae gates, let them cross the five highways of my realm and quicken their travels across Thameland. Your guiding them was a bonus.”
“Which you can take away at any time.”
“Exactly, which frees you up for your own tasks,” Lord Aenflynn said. “When your hunt is over, would you take up another one?”
The Stalker raised an eyebrow. “Who would I be hunting?”
“The Saint of Thameland.”
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Hello TWENTY-NINE cool fools, almighty chosen, wise sages, and mighty champions! Thank you for your support!
I got my cusdodes army ready! Let's goooo!
Cya tomorrow!
Comments
Kevin Perkins
moose’ antlers -> moose's antlers I will be so, so, so deeply satisfied when these jerks are dead. Hopefully they will have a death just slow enough for them to realize that they are totally hosed, and then their souls will be sundered. Really, that would be too good for them. Boy they really get me angry.
lenkite
But hunting down the Saint is OK ?
lenkite
So, how are the Fae interpreting that they got betrayed ? That part is unclear.
RudaSnitch
He may just mean the current Saint, not Hannah herself
Brian R
Wasn’t the Traveler a Saint of Thameland. Could he be wanting to add the death of another divinity to the collection?
Gerrard Vincent
You know, this is an excellent way to set the stage for an invasion arc. I also wonder how exactly they intend to set the stage for the heroes to "Break" their oath? Probably by offering sanctuary to the First Disciple and his followers and then allowing the heroes to see them. Looks like an ambush is coming. Followed swiftly by an escape possibly with Alex's Fae friend while chased by the stalker. Then the Hero's will have to attack to the castle to force the lord Fae into a new agreement.
