The Immortal Realm (5 page)

A man stood at the top end of the plank.

“Oh…my…god…”
Tania gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at a figure that was both familiar and changed.

It was King Oberon—but it was not the full-grown man that Tania knew as her Faerie father. It was Oberon as a slender youth, beardless, and with golden hair that hung to his shoulders. The crown of Faerie rested on his temples, a simple white circlet of crystal studded with jewels of black amber.

My father,
Tania thought.
From way before I was born. I get it now! I'm seeing things that must have taken place thousands upon thousands of years ago.

As he began to walk down the gangplank, all the people save one dropped to their knees. Tania looked at the one man as he stepped forward to greet the King. Again there was something familiar about him: He was tall and broad-shouldered, his face long and thin with sunken cheeks and wise, dark eyes, his hair gray as mist.

It was Earl Valentyne—much younger than Tania
knew him, but still old, even so very far back in time.

“Greetings from your people, sire,” said Valentyne, bowing his head as the King stepped onto the quay. “All is prepared for your coming. The Hall of Light awaits you on your coronation day!”

 

There was the vortex of reeling air again, and Tania found herself back in the Royal Pavilion, gazing around like someone shaken out of a deep sleep. She stared at the King, disoriented to see his familiar, mature face again so soon after witnessing him in his youth.

“Wow,” she said. “What was
that
?”

“You have been shown the very beginnings of the Immortal Realm of Faerie,” Eden said to her.

Tania blinked at her. “I don't understand….”

“None remember the time before the Great Awakening,” said the King. “None have any knowledge of the time before I came in the White Ship to Fortrenn Quay.”

“Not even
you
?” Tania asked him.

“Not even I,” said the King with a grave shake of his head. “Those times are lost. Forever lost.”

“The Coronation of the King was our birthing,” said Earl Valentyne. “And never since that ancient day has any man or woman or child of Faerie died of old age or of sickness.” He paused, his long, thin hand coming to his chest, a frown gathering on his wrinkled brow.

Eden turned to him. “My lord?” she said. “What is the matter?”

The earl's hand fluttered in the air. “'Tis nothing,” he said. “We have weighty matters to consider. The question before us is unchanged. What distemper is it that has entered our Realm and stolen a life from us?”

Tania looked at the ancient earl. Did he seem flushed? Perhaps it was anger at the evil that had come into Faerie…or was it something else?

A new voice rang out in the pavilion. “Your majesties, my lords and ladies. My pardon for this intrusion, but I may have the answer that you seek!” The voice belonged to Edric; he was standing just inside the closed tent flaps.

“You presume much on your friendship with Princess Tania, Master Chanticleer!” called the earl marshal, his face furious as he glared at Edric. Others, too, stared at Edric in dismay and outrage. “This council is for those of the House of Aurealis,” Cornelius continued. “None other have permission to enter or to speak.”

“Nonetheless I ask that you hear me,” Edric insisted. “I do not believe we are being attacked by Lyonesse, nor by any other enemy. I believe I have with me the source of the blight.” He opened the tent flap, letting in a blaze of early sunlight. Two shapes stepped into the long triangle of light.

Edric let the tent flap fall.

Tania gasped. “Mum? Dad?” Her mother's face was full of consternation. Her father looked even more unwell, but he also seemed worried and uneasy. Tania got to her feet, not understanding what was happening.
“Edric, what's this all about?”

Edric didn't even look at her.

“It's all right, Tania,” said her mother. She looked across at the King and Queen. “I am so sorry,” she said. “But I think Edric is right. I think it's our fault the child died.”

Clive Palmer stepped forward, his face flushed and beaded with sweat. “In our world a virus can be the most dangerous thing human beings ever encounter. Titania—you lived there—you know what I'm talking about.”

“I do,” Titania said. “But I never thought such a thing could pass between the Realms.”

“Virus is
disease
; do I understand that aright?” asked Hopie.

“You do,” Clive Palmer said, bringing a handkerchief to his mouth as he coughed. “I have brought a virus into your world—and it must have killed that child.” He bowed his head. “And I am more sorry for that than I can possibly say.”

Tania saw the faces of her Faerie family turn toward her Mortal father, their expressions showing sudden fear and disgust.

“No!” Tania shouted, running toward her Mortal parents. “No! I don't believe it.” She looked around the assembly, alarmed by their reactions. “It's just a stupid head cold, that's all,” she said. “It can't kill anyone.” She felt as if the breath was being squeezed out of her. “And where's the proof that people in Faerie can even catch human diseases?” She turned to her Mortal
mother. “Mum! Tell them it isn't true.” She rounded on Edric. “How could you do this?” she hissed. “Why are you trying to blame them?”

“I'm not trying to blame them,” Edric said, turning to look at her. “But I think it's time for—what did you call it? A reality check. For the first time in thousands of years a Mortal has brought an illness through into Faerie. And a few weeks later a baby is dead from a fever. Connect the dots, Tania!”

Her father put his hand on her shoulder. “Tania, it's not Edric's fault. I did this. I should have known better than to come here when I wasn't feeling well.”

“I do not understand,” said Cordelia. “Are you saying that this ‘virus' can be passed from person to person?”

“It can,” Titania said, her face twisted in torment. “In the Mortal World many thousands can die of a disease carried by a single person. I curse myself for never once thinking that the folk of Faerie may suffer so!”

“Sun, moon, and stars!” Sancha gasped. “Are
all
at risk, then?”

“I'm afraid you might be,” Mary Palmer said, her voice breaking. “I only hope the infection is limited to that one poor baby.”

“Hopie?” Oberon's deep voice sounded for the first time. “You are master of herbs and medicines; do you have the skills to fight this virus?”

“It is possible that medicaments could be discovered, were I given enough time,” said Hopie. “But the
search may take months or years, and it may be that there is no cure in all of Faerie for such a malady.”

“Then there's only one answer, and even that may be too late,” said Clive Palmer, his breath wheezing as he spoke. “King Oberon, Queen Titania, my wife and I must leave your country immediately.” He stopped, coughing into the handkerchief. “Excuse me!” he gasped. “We should go before we do any more harm.”

“No!” Tania cried. “No! That's not right. We should all calm down and think this through properly! Just because Edric says it's all my parents' fault doesn't make it true!”

“Peace, daughter,” said Oberon. “The well-being of Faerie rests on this decision.”

Clive Palmer stepped toward the King. “You don't have a choice,” he said. “Who knows what damage I've already done.”

The earl marshal held out an imperious hand. “Come no closer to their majesties!” he cried. “I will not have them fall victim to your sickness.”

Tania saw that others were also looking at her Mortal father with dread in their eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Mr. Palmer said, backing off. “Forgive me.” He looked at the Queen. “Tell them what a disease like this can do.
Tell them!
”

Titania stood up, her face ashen. “I have seen it before. I witnessed the Great Plague of London in centuries past. Without medicine such a disease could rage through our people like wildfire.” She looked at Tania and her eyes were full of sorrow. “First it would
take the more vulnerable of us—the infants and the elderly—but then if it were not checked, it could rampage through the entire population.”

The Marchioness Lucina got up from a cushion and stood at her husband's side. “It grieves me to say so, for it presses hard upon all our hearts to do hurt to Princess Tania, but these Mortals speak the truth. They must be banished and never more be allowed into Faerie.”

“These Mortals?”
Tania shouted. “You're talking about my
parents
!”

“Tania, calm down,” said Mary Palmer.

“No, I won't calm down! They're talking about you as if…as if—” She came to a choking halt. She had been going to say,
as if you're outsiders, as if you're different from them.
But the truth was they
were
; they were totally different. They were aliens from another world.

The King looked from face to face. “Is this the will of the entire council?” he asked. “Banishment for all time?”

“It is,” came a quiet chorus of voices.

“Is there no other way?” asked Rathina. “Surely there must be?”

“I don't think there is,” said Mary Palmer. She looked at the King. “Do it now—before we cause any more harm.”

Oberon stood up from his chair and raised his arm, lightning flickering at his fingertips.

“No!” Tania screamed.

“Silence, daughter. The council has made its will
clear. Your Mortal parents must be sent from this place—never again to return to Faerie!” Oberon gestured toward them. Lightning crackled through the tent.

Tania threw herself in front of her parents, her arms spread wide. “You can't do that!” she shouted. “I'm
their
daughter, too!”

“Stand clear, Tania!” boomed Oberon.

But it was too late. Before Tania had time to react, the lightning struck her and she staggered back, caught in a blazing ball of white fire that dazzled her eyes and filled her ears with roaring flames.

Tania had the sense of hurtling through the air in a haze of white sparks. She could move but only slowly, as though under fathoms of water—and through the frosted halo that surrounded her she could see into a deep velvet blackness studded with huge stars. She was flying through the sky high above Faerie.

Moving with her were three other balls of white fire racing like comets through the darkness, trailing beards of flame.

The stars wheeled around and her stomach launched itself into her throat as the four fireballs plummeted and a great stretch of green land came racing up to meet them.

 

Tania found herself standing on a grassy hillside. Beside her, wide-eyed and gasping for breath, were her Mortal mother and father.

“You are safe,” came a deep, gentle voice. “The
horse of air is swift and wild, but it does no harm.”

Tania turned and saw Oberon standing with his back to a tall round tower of brown stone.

“Bonwn Tyr!” she murmured. She knew this tower well: It was the portal through which she could come and go from her bedroom in London.

The ways in and out of Faerie were called portals or doorways, but really they were neither. Faerie and the Mortal World were shadows of each other divided by an invisible membrane through which only a few people had the art or skill to pass. Princess Eden and some handful of similar lore-masters could do it, but they relied on long study of the Mystic Arts to allow them to open a portal between the worlds. For Tania, whose ability to walk between the worlds was a gift of her royal heritage, moving between the worlds needed but a simple, effortless side step.

Tania turned and gazed down the hill to the endless profusion of towers and courtyards of the Royal Palace, stretching away in either direction along the snaking course of the River Tamesis.

Tania's Mortal father seemed dazed from the journey, his face red and the sweat standing out on his forehead. He was leaning forward, his hands on his knees, panting for breath. A frown deepened on Oberon's face, and he stepped forward as if to help him.

Clive Palmer pulled himself upright and stretched out his hand. “No! Oberon, no. Don't touch me. It's too dangerous.”

Oberon nodded. “So be it,” he said.

“We're sorry for the harm we've done in your world,” said Mary Palmer, moving to her husband's side.

Mr. Palmer held a handkerchief to his mouth, stifling a cough. “We must go. Tania, you have to take us through into London—and then you have to come back here again.”

Tania nodded. “I'll visit you as often as I can,” she said.

“I don't think that would be wise,” said her mother. “At least not for the time being—not while your dad is still contagious.”

“Then I'll stay in London with you,” Tania said impulsively. “I'll help look after Dad.” Angry tears burned behind her eyes. “Why did this have to happen? Everything was so perfect. And now everything is wrong and broken.”

“Mistress Mary, Master Clive, my good wishes go with you on your journey,” said Oberon. “I do not blame you for what has befallen us, for you were not aware of the danger you posed to my people.” He turned to Tania. “Take your Mortal parents into their own world, my daughter. Then return to me. Your knowledge of Mortal sickness may be of help to Hopie as she seeks a cure.” He strode to the tower and drew the door open.

I won't cry. I will not fall to pieces!

Silently Tania led her parents into the soft gloom of
the tower and up the spiral stairway to the upper floor. It was a simple room of bare stone walls and dusty floorboards. A single arched window cast a wedge of light across the room. Tania paused in the middle of the floor, holding out both hands. Her parents took her hands.

Tania swallowed and took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “Now!”

They stepped forward together. Tania made the small side step and saw the gray stone fade away to be replaced by the familiar surroundings of her bedroom in her home in the Mortal World.

There was her bed with its yellow-and-gold-patterned duvet cover. Her cluttered desk with her new computer on it—a birthday present, hardly used. Bookshelves. A crowded chest of drawers. A bulletin board on the wall. Posters. A heap of school books on the floor. And through the window the everyday Camden skyline and a wreath of white clouds that stretched far out over London.

“Extraordinary,” murmured her father.

Her mother turned and cupped Tania's face between her hands. “And now you have to go back, sweetheart,” she said. “Help your sister to find a cure before anyone else gets sick.”

“I will,” Tania said. “But I'm still not convinced it was anything to do with Dad.”

“Let's hope so,” said her mother. She kissed Tania's forehead.

Her father's hand stroked her shoulder. “Best not kiss good-bye,” he said.

She screwed her face up. “Stop being so sweet, the two of you!” she said. “Do you want me to dissolve into a puddle on the carpet?” She pulled away from her mother, turning and looking at them. “I'll see you soon, got me? I'll be back
soon
!”

“Be careful, sweetheart,” said her father.

“And you.” Gritting her teeth, Tania stepped forward and a little to one side, and her parents melted away and she was back in Faerie.

Oberon was waiting for her on the hillside, his back turned to her as she emerged from the tower, his eyes on the palace.

She stood next to him, but a little apart. “They've gone,” she said.

Oberon moved closer and put his arm around her shoulders.

“It was well done, my child,” he said. “I know how it grieved your heart to say farewell to them. But now we have grave work ahead of us. We must call the Conclave of Earls and await the outcome of their deliberations.”

She looked up at him. “What's the Conclave of Earls?”

“A meeting of all the great lords and ladies of Faerie,” Oberon told her. “When such danger as this threatens the Realm, a monarch cannot make decisions alone.”

“It was
one
child,” Tania said. “I know it was awful,
but it was only one child.”

The King's eyes seemed to burn into her. “Heed me, Tania,” he said, his voice deep and severe. “If you have not understood yet, then understand now: The child's death was not of natural cause. If your Mortal father did not cause it, then some great evil attacks this land. And for all his sorceries and subtleties, the King of Lyonesse did not have the power to extinguish without trace the life of a Faerie child.”

Tania gazed up at him in growing alarm. “You mean it could be something worse than the Sorcerer King?”

The King nodded, gazing out over the palace and the deep woodland that lay beyond the curl of the river. He spread his arms as if to embrace the soft, heathered hills that rose to the northern horizon.

“I am Faerie,” he intoned, his voice so deep that Tania felt it like thunder in her belly. “As thrives the land, so I thrive. I am tied to this land mind, body, and soul. Every death pierces me—and the death of Gyvan has thrust a thorn into my heart.”

As she watched her Faerie father, Tania finally realized the dreadful truth. She had been hoping that her Mortal father had not caused the child's death, but for the people of Faerie, an imported Mortal disease was better by far than the alternative: that some evil power had reached into their land and squeezed cold fingers around Gyvan's small body.

The King started, as if some sudden sound had
shocked him. “There is fear and dread in Leiderdale,” he said, peering into the west. “Come, we must return!”

Tania reached for his hand and was swept up in racing lightning.

 

Earl Valentyne lay on a low cot, his head propped on a pillow, his face gray. Eden sat at his side, holding one bony hand in hers, looking at him with anxious, frightened eyes.

Lord Brython put his hand under the earl's head, lifting him so that his lips came to the rim of a small wooden bowl held by Hopie.

“Drink, my lord,” Eden urged.

The earl sipped and coughed. Eden wiped sweat from his forehead.

Tania stood at the end of the bed. Oberon was behind Eden, leaning forward, looking down at the earl with anxious eyes.

“When was Earl Valentyne taken sick?” the King asked.

“It happened only moments after the horse of air took you,” Rathina said, standing at Tania's side. “He stumbled and would have fallen if Eden had not been to hand.”

“He has a high fever,” said Hopie. “This tincture of yarrow and elderflower will bring out the sweat, and I have added echinacea, chamomile, and goldenseal to give him strength.” She glanced up at Tania. “These are physics I use to fight the fevers that come with
broken limbs, but I do not know how effective they may be against…against this plague that you have brought on us.”

Tania stared at her. Was even Hopie blaming her for this?

“Hist, now, Hopie,” said Titania. “Do not strike out blindly in your grief and helplessness. This is not your sister's fault.”

“No, I spoke in anger,” Hopie said, looking at Tania with hooded eyes. “This thing is not of your doing—and yet as we speak three more infants sicken.”

“Oh, god…
no
…” Tania groaned. “Not more.”

She felt Rathina's arm around her waist. “Brave heart, my love,” her sister murmured in her ear.

“Are they dying?” Tania asked.

“My potions tether them to this world for the moment,” said Hopie. “But I know not how long my herbs and simples will suffice.”

“We must prevent the disease from spreading further,” said Titania. She turned to the King. “None must be allowed to leave here, my lord,” she said. She frowned. “And yet this is no place for the sick. We came prepared for a day of festivities, not to feed and house hundreds while this fever takes its course.”

“We should return to the palace,” Sancha said. “In the library there are many lore books; perhaps I will find a cure in their pages.”

“The cure for a Mortal disease?” Cordelia said dubiously. “I fear not.”

“Nevertheless—” Sancha began, but Oberon interrupted her.

“We will not dwell here,” he said. “But neither will we return to the Royal Palace. Many folk remained there who may have none of this pestilence in their veins; I would not put them in danger. Let us go to Veraglad upon the high southern cliffs. There shall we stay until this thing is defeated or until its evils are spent.”

Tania knew of the Summer Palace of Veraglad, although she had no memories of the times she had spent there with her sisters in her lost Faerie childhood.

The King turned to her. “Tania, go with Rathina and Sancha. Spread the news of our departure; have all make ready to board the ships.”

Tania nodded and with a final miserable glance at Earl Valentyne, she left the tent with her sisters, intending to let everyone know that they should start packing up and making their way to the harbor.

Edric was standing just outside the tent.

No,
she thought.
Not now. This isn't the time.

He stepped into her path. She lifted her hand, as though trying to ward him off.

“Will you talk to me, please?” he said.

She paused, aware that her sisters were looking at her. “You go on ahead,” she said to them. “I won't be long.”

She felt the quick squeeze of Rathina's fingers in
hers, and then she was alone with Edric. She looked into his face, holding her emotions in check, caught between the need to be comforted by him and the urge to launch her fist into his face.

“Well?”

“You're blaming me for what happened, and that isn't fair,” he said quietly. “I didn't accuse your parents of anything. They came to me.”

“But you were quick enough to agree with them, weren't you?” Tania said, glad that her voice sounded steady and level. “You were happy enough to let them be punished for it.”

“No, I wasn't happy. But what else could I have done?”

“You could have stood up for them like I did!” A poisonous edge came into her voice. “Ever heard the phrase ‘innocent till proven guilty'?”

A muscle twitched along his jaw. “Ever heard the word ‘epidemic'?” he retorted. “Don't you care about what happens here? Because I do. This is my world, Tania, and your Mortal father has put it at risk.”

“You don't
know
that!”

“Oh, wake up, Tania! What else?” His eyes burned. “Tell me!” he said. “Tell me what else could be going on here? You're so blinded by loyalty to them that you're not thinking straight.”

“Loyalty? Is that all you think I feel toward my parents?”

“I presume you mean your
Mortal
parents,” Edric said coldly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, you're very quick to remind me of that, aren't you?” she said bitterly. “Tania the not-really-full-blood Faerie. Who is she? Who is this strange girl? She's neither one thing nor the other; she's Tania the half-breed!”

“I never said that. I never thought that for a single moment,” said Edric. “Why would I have asked you to marry me if I felt like that about you?”

“Who knows?” Tania exclaimed, the anger surging unstoppably through her. “Nothing in this stupid world makes any sense. Maybe you were thinking of starting a freak show with me as the main attraction.”

Edric moved toward her, his face now more concerned than angry. “Tania, calm down,” he said.

“Get away from me!” she exploded. “Don't
touch
me!”

He backed off, his hands raised. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I'm going. You obviously need to cool off. We'll talk again when you're being a bit more rational.” He turned and walked rapidly away.

She seethed with rage, her hands knotted, her knuckles white. She wanted to run after him and throw herself at him and beat him with her fists until all the pain in her mind was gone forever.