Chapter Eleven

The False Invitation

“Guts are important. Your guts are what digest things. But it is your brains that tell you which things to swallow and which not to swallow.”

-Austin Dacey-

The final bell of Tuesday’s school day rang bittersweet for Cymbril. Of course things were very uncomfortable with the whispers and stares from the new rumor trend circulating…and one of the dregs of the football team had offered an opportunity for a ‘hook up’, which was turned down a tad too rudely. But that was all that had happened and like she had told Herky, she could handle it. Once all of that was ignored Cymbril was happy to have Denise under her wing again. Emily’s suspension would last for the rest of the week, unfortunately, and without her chaotic presence things just seemed empty. At the same time it was a sort of relief though; Cymbril had forgotten how much energy she needed to expend every day keeping Emily from…well, punching people in the face.

 But there was another reason the end of school didn’t sit with her as well as it should have…and that was thanks to Annabella. She, Dorra and Mary had stolen Cymbril’s backpack from underneath her desk when she wasn’t looking and she knew this from the way the three girls had sing-songed, “Where’s your backpack Cymbril?” and laughed as they left the classroom.

 She’d wasted precious time scouring the immediate area, missing her bus, before finally checking the trash…and there it was. I guess it was too much to hope my awesome act of kindness would turn Annabelle into a better person overnight, Cymbril grumbled to herself, but found the strength to smile for she knew that as soon as she got home Herky would be there to talk and joke with.

And missing the bus wasn’t the end of the world; walking was good for you, after all, and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t done it before. After leaving the school Cymbril decided that if she was going to get some fresh air she’d make the most of it and headed for a shortcut through a series of woods and fields around the building. It would shave a good ten minutes from her commute and she loved to stroll under the trees listening to the chirps of birds and insects and the trickles of streams. Such excursions were even better now that animals weren’t afraid of her, but today Cymbril noticed the woods seemed oddly quiet and still.

She looked around to make sure but there wasn’t a creature in sight. Not a single squirrel, rabbit or bird was coming to dance between her feet or perch on her shoulders. For the first time in days there was not a single critter in sight. Flickers of unease began to tease her; maybe the animals weren’t around for a reason.

There was a whisper of a sound, similar to soft hum of electricity and the girl stopped, at first unsure she had heard it. But there it was again, hidden behind a particularly large cluster of brush and…was that light? Her curiosity peaked, Cymbril stepped closer and used her hands to try and part the foliage and see beyond. There was indeed a pearly light but there were too many leaves and branches in the way to get a clear image.

“Ouch!” Cymbril hissed as a finger hit some thorns and she pulled back. She sucked at the tiny injury and went for a different tactic, circling around the mass of foliage. The hum was getting louder and the girl searched for an opening with greater intensity; what created such a sound and gave off light that would be in the forest? And the fact that it was hidden made the whole thing more mysterious.

Finally she came upon an area where the plant life thinned and Cymbril eagerly maneuvered her way past the minor barriers of barbed-tipped branches and uneven footing. Had she been more aware of her surroundings she might have noticed that there were signs of recent passage: a broken twig there, an area of compressed leaves where a foot had been over here…but even if she had she likely wouldn’t have cared for what she could see up ahead was something out of a fairytale…or perhaps a syfy movie.

It was a portal. There was no better word for it. About seven feet tall, four feet wide and oval shaped, the edges that marked its boundary were glowing and rippling with energy, giving off the humming sound that had attracted Cymbril’s attention. And through the portal was another world. A room in fact, with polished white walls and a bright, sunlit window, its tasseled violet drapes swaying gently in a breeze she could not feel.

“No. Way!” After staring for several moments in delighted amazement reality kicked in and Cymbril grappled for her cell phone. Excitement made her clumsy and she dropped it twice before managing to be steady enough to snap a few pictures of the impossibility before her.

“Alright…” she whispered, scarcely believing this was happening. “…now what?” Cymbril twisted her phone nervously in her hands; should she call 9-1-1? Yeah, that would go over great. ‘Hello officer? I just found a doorway to another dimension in the woods. What would you like me to do?’ Cuz that was believable. And besides, the cops only handled crimes and this…wasn’t.

Cautiously Cymbril stepped nearer moving one pace at a time until she stood a little more than an arm’s length away. Shifting this way and that revealed more to the room: a richly embroidered ottoman, the corner of a bookcase crammed full of colorful volumes, a glimpse of a cloudless blue sky through the window. Taking her phone again, Cymbril lifted it over her head and angled it downwards to take another picture in an attempt to see beyond the sill, but got nothing better than a blurry bit of green for her trouble. A forest maybe?

If only there was enough room for her to circle around the portal; she was curious about what it looked like from the other side. And…what if…? Crouching, Cymbril scooped up a pine cone and juggled it for a few seconds before tossing it at the glowing arch, holding her breath. It fell through effortlessly, rolled across the floor and lightly bounced off the wall. Success!

Cymbril laughed at the joy of it and rose, moving closer. A distant voice at the back of her mind warned her to be careful but she scarcely heard it. Her hand lifted and lightly grazed the shimmering edges of the portal, experiencing a similar tingle that was felt when one’s foot fell asleep. Then, before she could stop herself, Cymbril stuck her hand through and back again quickly. Nothing untoward happened (not even the foot-fall-asleep sensation) and she repeated the experiment, this time with her leg. It hovered above that pristine, forbidden territory before Cymbril retreated several steps into a branch of prickles.

“Okay, this is crazy. This is crazy!” She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. But…this portal must have appeared for a reason, right? If this was a story then there would be a cursed prince on the other side needing her aid or…something. And it did seem to be stable. Surely a quick look wouldn’t hurt. Taking a deep breath Cymbril drew close again and, marshaling her courage, stepped through.

Slowly she released that inhaled breath and stared about, heart pounding in her chest. There was the bookcase, much larger than she had initially assumed and beautifully carved. A gorgeous rug woven from silver, blue and purple shades was spread across the floor and on a wall a masterful painting was hung, depicting a tree in bloom clinging precariously to the edge of a sea cliff. Cymbril longed to stare longer at everything but was hugely conscious of the crackling doorway behind her and the fact that she didn’t know what time she had here.

Before she left she had to get a look out that window. Three strides and she was there, brushing aside the drapes and gasping in wonder at the sight before her. She was in a tower of a castle as white as cloud overlooking a city of spires, bridges and trees. Instead of cleared land full of buildings and farms, this unknown people were symbiotic with the woods around them, and even from the distance she was at Cymbril could tell that the roads she could see ventured up into the treetops. What was this place, how amazing…

The steady hum of the portal faltered in intensity and Cymbril stiffened. She turned just in time to see it dematerialize, draining away to the floor. Alarm flashed through her and Cymbril lunged at it even though she already knew she was too late. “No wait!” But it was gone. Nothing remained…and on the ground in the spot the portal had stood rested a metal ring, wide enough to be a bracelet.

Cymbril had several breaths of crushing panic mixed with numb shock as her thoughts whirled in an attempt come to terms with what had just happened…and someone began to clap. Not a rapturous applause, but a slower almost…mocking declaration. This drew the girl’s attention across the room at the man who was leaning against the wall opposite her.

The first thing she registered about him was his immaculate beauty; smooth unblemished skin, face even a supermodel would kill to have, long sun-kissed blond hair delicately twined intricately around his pointed ears. The second thing Cymbril noticed was the stranger’s smile. It was happy, triumphant…and made her shiver.

It was a trap, she realized. What have I done? Cymbril wanted to run, to scream to hide, to…leap out the window! But a combination of fear and common sense kept her frozen where she stood. If he wanted to hurt you, you’d be hurt. And look at him, you really think he’d deliver a beating dressed like that? She rambled as she noticed his impeccable taste in clothing: a fresh, pale grey tunic without a single wrinkle, midnight colored sash to contrast, and ivory pants with recently shined ebony boots to complete the package.

He spoke but his language, full of lilting notes and trills, was as foreign to her as she was and Cymbril shook her head, backing up until her backpack pressed up against the wall. “Ah,” the man’s grin broadened and he lifted a hand. A pointed finger indicated towards the window beside her. Cymbril was wary of tearing her gaze away from him for even a second, but spared a quick glance to see what he was trying to tell her.

On the sill was a blue pebble the size of the end of her thumb nested in a small bowl, which had likely been there the whole time…much like her host. Uncertain, she looked back at the stranger, who was still smirking boldly. He spoke another phrase in his unusual yet beautiful language and mimed popping something into his mouth; the implication was clear.

When Cymbril made no move to obey the man gave no outward signs of displeasure. He casually strolled a few steps to her right and sat down at an elegant tea-table, both it and its cushioned chairs made of what appeared to be a combination of shining silver and clear blue glass. He poured himself a cup of ruby colored liquid from the crystal pitcher adorning it and sipped from his glass, studying her over the rim.

Cymbril was terrified but hadn’t yet exhausted all her options. She scanned the room, ignoring all the lavish furniture and artwork, counting two other windows besides the one she stood next to and a door just to the side of a canopy bed. The girl took an involuntary step towards it before remembering she was not alone…but her host was no more bothered by this than he had been about the rock. He went so far as to give her an encouraging flick of his fingers (even this he managed to look graceful) whilst taking another sip from his drink.

She wanted to fly to the door and wrench it open, but forced herself to slowly walk across the length of the room holding her hands together so tightly her fingers turned red. Once at her destination Cymbril, taking shallow but even breaths, took hold of the polished, wooden handle and gently opened it wide enough to look inside. No wonder the man hadn’t been worried; it was a bathroom, not an exit. The floor was tiled with an intricate mosaic, there were giant windows that reflected dozens of rainbows across various surfaces and the bathtub, toilet and counters appeared to be made out of mother of pearl. Beautiful…completely breathtaking.

Shifts of movement made Cymbril spin around. The man was walking to the window and, as she watched, picked up the blue pebble and returned to the table. He set it down on the edge farthest away from his chair before returning to the seat, staring at her meaningfully.  

There was nothing left for her but to take this chance. Cymbril approached on shaking legs to the table and picked it up…only to find that the texture wasn’t right for a rock. Testing it in her fingers, the girl realized that it was berry, which made eating it make much more sense. The man was miming pop-in-mouth gestures again and, steeling herself…Cymbril did as he asked.

The blue flesh burst against her teeth and an unusual amount of juice for such a small fruit filled her mouth, making Cymbril swallow reflexively. The taste was slightly sour but also sweet, and not altogether unpleasant, but a strange churning sensation in her stomach made her grab at her belly in alarm. Oh no, now what?!

“There…that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Cymbril looked up, staring at her host as he arrogantly took another swig. Did he just…?

“Useful little thing, is it not?” he continued, the language he was speaking the same as his first words to her, yet now their meaning was clear. “Dico fruits, they’re called. Birthed from the flowers of the Trueilin Tree, and only a handful of berries can be harvested every 2000 years. No matter what manner of speech you hear, from now on you will not only be able to understand it…but speak it as though born to it. You should be honored that I have allowed you such a gift.”

Cymbril stared at him as she processed this information. Part of her was undeniably fascinated by his monologue but the rest of her…“Who are you?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s right, you don’t know. That simplifies things…hm,” the smile became a frown, his mood swinging like a pendulum. “And complicates them in the same breath. You truly are a paradox, aren’t you? You won’t eat a fruit in a mysterious sack but you’ll walk through a gate to another world?”

Shame mixed with confusion set an angry blush against her cheeks. She opened her mouth but the stranger lifted a hand to stall her. “But never mind that…I am Coronius. What is your name, child?”

“It’s Cymbril,” she told him, voice only slightly higher than a whisper.

 Coronius set his glass down with a sharp clink, an uncharacteristic look of pity in his eyes. “Cymbril…you have my sympathy. Let me start by giving you an apology; you were never meant to be involved but due to my carelessness…here you are. Please, have a seat. And some crembila juice?” He presented both the spare chair and the pitcher.

Cymbril didn’t move. “No thank you, I’d rather stand.”

Coronius leaned back in his chair, haughty air returning. “Polite little thing aren’t you? Well…” he took a moment to pour a cup of the crembila juice and pushed it towards her. “…for when you’re ready. One of my favorites this but if it’s not to your liking I will be more than happy to bring you a different flavor of my people. I’m sure we can find something partial to your tastes.”

“Where am I?” Cymbril’s mouth was dry and a chill was spreading throughout her body.

“Far from Earth, my dear.” Coronius informed her with a teasing smirk. “Your gullibility worked in your favor; had you not walked through the seeker ring yourself you would have been dragged. I’m so pleased we could accomplish this with as little trauma to you as possible.”

As Coronius spoke Cymbril’s tension grew and her mouth felt like a two-day old peanut butter sandwich. In desperation she sized the offered glass of crembila juice and drained it, barely tasting the refreshing, tangy sweetness.

“Ah, how is it?” Coronius happily asked, behaving as though she were any other houseguest sampling his drinks.

The vessel now emptied and, a little out of breath, Cymbril set it down on the table with more force than necessary. “Why am I here!?” she demanded, voice rough.

Coronius’s smile faded and he was suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “You have…something in your possession that was stolen from me. Something that, however much you or I may wish it…cannot be returned. At least not yet. I am sorry to say that until that time comes you, Cymbril…must remain here.”

“What?!” Cymbril exclaimed, loudly. “You can’t just…what is it I have?! Just tell me and I’ll give it back or…if it’s at home I’ll go get it!”

“Peace, child.” The man chided in a pitiful attempt to quiet her.

“No, you just kidnapped me, I can be as…not peaceful as I want!” she punctuated this by thrusting her cup away from her. It skittered across the table and would have fallen to smash against the floor if not for Coronius’s freakishly fast reflexes.

His hand darted out and caught the glass mid-flight. After silently regarding Cymbril as a parent might a tantruming child he set it a precise distance away from its pair and asked, “Are you hungry?”

“What?! No!”

“Well, I didn’t know if you would be so I had something prepared just in case.” Coronius stood, straightened his tunic, and moved to a small curtain at around chest height in the wall behind him and pushed it aside. This revealed a niche where a delicate tray sat, full of small bowls and plates. “Enjoy it at your leisure and when you are done simply place the dishes back in the self and close the curtain.” He demonstrated while Cymbril just stared at him, appalled.

“Look just…tell me what you want!”

Coronius folded his hands behind him and, again, ignored her. “I can see you are quite overwhelmed so I shall depart to give you a chance to center yourself. Until next time, sweet soul.” As she watched Coronius turned to the wall next to the food shelf and placed the palm of his right hand flat against it. Like magic and…it probably was, the solid wood melted away to create an archway which opened into a room beyond that from a quick glace looked like a personal study.

For a moment Cymbril was speechless at the sight but found her voice as her jailer started to leave. “Are you an elf!?” she blurted.

Coronius froze in the doorway before facing her, eyebrows lifted. “Yes.”

Cymbril had already known that from the ears but it was good to have it confirmed...at least he was talking to her. “Then…am I in Elatyriaf?” Herky would have been so proud of her for finally nailing the pronunciation of the word.

Now Coronius was well and truly shocked. “Yes for a second time,” he regarded her suspiciously. “You have selective knowledge for someone who knows so little of her place amidst great machinations.” Though he was no doubt expecting an explanation Cymbril bit her lower lip and kept her silence.

When it became clear he would get nothing out of her Coronius’s lips thinned. “Well… make yourself comfortable. Do keep in mind that the pleasantness of your stay depends entirely on you.” With that final parting remark lingering like a bad smell, Coronius stepped past the threshold and the archway closed in the way it had appeared, returning to its solid state.