The full moon glared down on the dense forest shedding silver light on upturned foliage. Most of the light was lost to the tops of the trees. Only tiny beams made it all the way through the layers to the forest floor.
A thick fog had begun to rise from a large pond hidden deep in center of the forest. Puffs of mist hovered over the cold dark water. Reaching its curling tendrils over the muddy edge, the mist crawled further along the ground making footing tricky. There was little color to be seen, only the black of the night and the silver grey from the moon illuminated the clearing.
Silence hung in the dark forest like thick clouds absorbing all sound while creatures curled up tight in their beds slept or sought prey elsewhere. All except one.
Cob, a small night sprite, scrambled as quietly as he could over and through the fallen dead leaves, turning over rocks. He was looking desperately for mealy worms to feed his five young children. Sweat was beginning to build in drops from the pores on his green forehead. He knew he shouldn’t be out this late by himself on a full moon. Who knew what creatures or hobgoblins could also be out looking for mischief?
Since the Unseelie Queen began her reign there had been no safety for the honest faery folk; only darkness and uncertainty. There were no longer any laws keeping the darker faeries in check. Instead, unseelie and other dark faeries began to leech their way into the daylight of Tir Na Nog, chasing the other fae away in fear with the threats of violence, torture and death.
Cob scratched his bulbous head as he contemplated a rather large rock. His golden eyes were made for seeing in the dark and though his arms and legs were twig thin he was very strong. Looking around once more to assure he was the only one in the forest, he shoved his full weight against the rock and rolled it over onto its side.
Underneath were the burrowed signs of insects but none of the creepy crawlies were to be found. Cob rolled the rock back into place making sure to remove any signs of disturbance. Maybe tomorrow night the worms will come back, but for tonight his many children will have to do with tree grubs.
Cob picked up his walnut bag and crept toward an old oak tree next to the pond. Grumbling quietly to himself as he walked up a spiral staircase of mushrooms along the tree trunk, he thought darkly on how much Tir na Nog had changed since the good king was imprisoned and his wife murdered. There was nothing to protect the honest folk. Spriggins were everywhere causing trouble where they had no business, during the day or night. Redcaps ran rampant for a while until humans were too far and few to keep the dark faeries’ caps wet with blood. Fortunately, most of them went back underground to find new ways of sneaking into the human lands. Cob doubted they found many though. It was difficult enough as it was with the mountain range protecting the fae from the humans to the East and the rocky coast guarded by the water horses and silkie isles to the West. There was no way in or out of Tir na Nog and hadn’t been for well over twenty decades.
Cob found himself a nice twig to sit on in the protective shadow of the tree trunk overlooking the silvery water. He shivered at the eerie lack of movement through the dark forest. After ten years of waiting for the royal children to return and take back their throne, most faeries had lost hope. Most said Twor le Varg, the encroacher from the Unseelie Court, had murdered the children just like she murdered their beautiful mother. Though few, like Cob and his family, held out hope they were still on the run, waiting for the right time to bring Tir na Nog back to its original glory. However, after all this time, even Cob’s family were growing uncertain of their dreams for renewed peace.
Cob stretched his spidery legs, preparing to begin his search for tree grubs, when he felt a breeze flow through the leaves. A branch snapped. Leaves swished as someone brushed against them. Cob froze in place afraid to be caught out in the open. He squinted his eyes toward the sound as it grew closer. Just barely, he could see two dark forms moving amongst the trees heading towards the pond. One of the shadows limped heavily while the other did not seem in a hurry to help the first progress along their path.
Cob scuttled back along his branch and hid deep behind the leaves. He couldn’t afford to be seen by strange faery folk but instinct would not allow him to run away. He was compelled to stay, to watch.
The first form finally broke through the low brush to fall on his knees at the edge of the pond. One hand clutched a thin ragged blanket tight around his shoulders The shredded fabric barely passed his waist in strips. The skin of his face was heavily wrinkled and grey under the moonlight. One thick horn curved out from the top of his shaggy dark hair above his temple, then curved back around his faun-like ear to his chin. The other horn was broken off close to his head. Sharp jagged pieces of the black ivory reflected grey light. He appeared to be a satyr, a very old satyr by the look of his horns.
Cob crouched low to the branch and tried to crawl just a little bit closer to get a better look. Something seemed very familiar about this person.
Slowly, the satyr looked up to the moon while his companion approached behind him. As a beam of light drifted over the fallen satyr’s face, Cob gasped and quickly covered his mouth before a sound could escape his lips. This was no random creature. This was the King of Tir na Nog.
The king must have been handsome in his youth with the onyx black horns and wild black hair. His face was long and dark in the moonlight yet his rectangular pupils dimly reflected the light from the pond. His hairy legs were covered in grey and black fur. Even his black torn hooves betrayed a history of strength long past.
The other person was not so easily recognized. A long dark cloak with a deep hood covered his head and body. He seemed very tense, though the cloak hid most of his features; his shoulders were notably held high and curved inwards. The figure sat down on a fallen log next to the king. He made no motion to help the king up, only sat there, waiting with his hands resting on his knees.
The king rested for a while on the cushioned damp mud at the lake’s edge. His breathing was ragged and forced. The old man looked like he may pass away at any moment, but instead leaned back to sit.
“Now what, Volgahrd? Why have you brought me here?” The king’s voice, once most likely resonant and smooth, was gravely with dehydration.
Volgahrd moved his head slowly from side to side, taking his time as he surveyed the forest.
“Do you not know this place or this body of water, your Highness? Have you not heard of what happened here or its significance?”
Cob shivered upon hearing the snakelike voice of the hooded faery. Fear raked over him at the realization he was in the presence of Twor le Varg’s accomplice. Twor could not have taken control of Tir na Nog without him. This creature was beyond vicious. There were rumors that she too feared his malicious nature. Grim tales of the torture he imparted on others not just for personal gain, but also for pleasure, carried on the wind faster than a lark. Cob feared for his king, but he feared even more for his own life if he was found.
“No, Volgahrd,” the King sighed deeply as though he did not want to know the answer but knew it would come anyways, “enlighten me.”
“This is one of the Nezicron,” Volgahrd reached a knobby grey hand from the depths of his cloak to touch the pond’s cool silvery water. A long jagged nail dipped into the water causing a small ripple to pulse across the pond. “It is one of many magic gateways between the Fae and Human world, but you already knew that. Could you not feel its power?”
Volgahrd let his elongated finger trace circles in the water. Irregular circles grew larger, bumping into each other and away from the cracked nail. Cob grimaced at the thought of the grotesque hand touching his precious drinking supply. The king, however, did not seem to notice. Instead, he closed his eyes, waiting for Volgahrd to continue.
“Did you know, your Highness, that this is the Nezicron used to forge the boundary between our world and theirs, to lock all the gates at once?” His voice was harsh. There was a sound of distaste, but Cob was uncertain of why. “This is where the Queen Auralia was sacrificed to create that barrier.”
Cob watched as the king choked. There was no love greater known to the Fae than of King Laenen and his Auralia. Tir na Nog was best at peace under their rule after the humans chased them into their small corner of the world. Faeries came from all over to be in their presence and to feel the warmth of their affection for each other. A tear blossomed on Cob’s cheek as he recalled when news was sent through the kingdom of the Queen’s murder. Fear then filled Cob’s chest. He had no idea he lived and depended on such an ill-fated place.
“Why have you brought me here, Volgahrd? Why now after all these years.” Laenen growled with irritation. “Have you reached a new level of cruelty and boredom that you must pull old men from their holes to rub their noses in misery? Have I not suffered enough?”
“That is not for me to decide,” Volgahrd snapped. He paused, considering his words. “Soon you will no longer suffer. It is time to reopen the gates between Tir na Nog and the rest of the world. It is time for your heirs to reunite.”
“So that is it? You plan to use me to bring my children together so you might slaughter them as well? You fiend!” The king spat.
Volgahrd’s shoulders twitched as the King’s voice grew louder.
“What makes you believe the same spell will work? This is powerful magic with which you meddle.” Laenen started to cough. His sudden burst of energy wrecked havoc on his ailing body.
As Volgahrd let the hood of his thick cloak fall over his shoulders, Cob started in fear. He had never seen Volgahrd but he knew the creature was frightening to look upon. The dark fae’s skin was a grayish-green color and leathery thick. His nose was caved in. It looked like Volgahrd had stolen the feature off of a corpse to replace his own. His hair, feathery and thin, stuck out in every direction. A faint glimmer from the moon flicked off of the faery’s deep red eyes.
“This is a different situation, different people. The spell will work.” His wormlike lips curled up into a cruel grin.
“Why now, Volgahrd? Why after all these years did you bring me here?” The king’s voice was but a whisper over the wheezing escaping from his lungs. Cob could see doubt etched across his king’s ancient eyes. He wanted with all his heart to save him, to zap him to some soft mossy grove full of fresh blooming flowers. But that was strong magic, and Cob was only a small humble night sprite.
The ugly faery slid off the log and knelt down next to the King. At one time, the King may have stood a full head taller than Volgahrd, but now his degenerating body made him appear much smaller.
“Within the last year, your guards grow lax. The Spriggins are distracted with rumors of your son, Nissa. They think he returns. They hear he has plans to overthrow Twor. She too grows restless in waiting and sends out spies for more information only to find nothing. The rumors are only partially true.”
“What rumors are true?”
Volgahrd ignored the King’s query and inched closer.
“It is time for the boundary to come down, King. Tir na Nog is not balanced. Twor...she’s becoming...tempestuous. You know as well as I that this night is long overdue. You have felt it call to you in your dark pit as much as it has called to me in the open.”
Volgahrd placed a scaly hand on the king’s bent shoulder. The king cringed at the touch but as he looked up into Volgahrd’s shadowed brow he froze.
“You are not...” The King’s voice was barely a whisper.
Volgahrd shook his head and touched a gray pointed fingernail to his lips.
“I see...now.” Laenen said. Laenen stared into the cool waters, breathing slowly. After some time passed, he nodded slightly.
The dark faery stood up at the movement. He helped Laenen to his feet, pulling at his elbow for support. The king leaned heavily on the dark faery. The his strength was almost gone.
Volgahrd pulled out a long curved dagger from his belt as he held the fragile king in front of him. He gently positioned the king between him and the pool. Together they walked knee-deep into the water.
Cob closed his eyes as Volgahrd raised the knife to the king’s throat. He could not watch but he heard a soft grunt as Volgahrd slid the dagger into the dying king. There was a splash, then silence.
Cob slowly opened his eyes and found Volgahrd standing limply next to the fallen King. Laenen’s body floated freely towards the pool’s center as his life’s blood flowed into the water.
The red liquid drifted lazily along the top like ribbons in a breeze. Then, as it reached the opposite side, it became heavy. Long black tendrils of blood began to sink deeper through the cold water.
Cob thought he saw something moving in the darkness beneath the blood and squinted to see more clearly. Silvery lines began to dance in front of the King’s body in the water, moving like struggling worms in the waves towards the center. As the silvery essence of the king swam its way through blood and water to the center of the lake another shimmering ribbon sparked to life deeper in the water and drifted upwards.
They swam back and forth until they touched and tangled into a mass of glowing essence. Cob knew the other strand could only be from Auralia, the king’s love. As soon as they touched the water flashed back to a clear fluid and Cob felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders and all sound evaporate from his ears. Ozone filled his nostrils. Just when Cob thought he had gone deaf a loud bang sounded and a silver wall exploded in a glittery shower around the pond.
Cob felt himself pant heavily. Fear filled him when he realized he may be heard. He looked frantically for Volgahrd, not seeing him on the opposite side of the pool any longer. It was too late. Deep violet eyes stared back at him.