The Power of Twelve

     The Darkest Faerie knew these chambers well. They were in the higher floors of the Hall of Heroes, intended for use by visiting dignitaries from beyond the city.

     “These will be your quarters while you are here,” Sasha said.

     “My prison, you mean,” the Faerie replied.

     “If you prefer, we can have you moved to the cells,” Torakor said from the doorway.

     He had insisted on escorting Sasha, despite Jerdana’s assurances that the Darkest Faerie was now beyond the ability to muster any magic. He knew too well that Faeries had other tricks up their sleeves, and a dagger could be just as deadly as a spell in the right hands.

     “I don’t think that will be needed,” Sasha said firmly. “Will it?”

     The Darkest Faerie said nothing.

     “Make no mistake,” Torakor said. “This may be a gilded cage, but it is a cage all the same. Your prison. There will be guards posted outside around the clock. You are not to leave these chambers unless specifically requested to do so by the Council.”

     “I understand how a prison works, Torakor,” the Darkest Faerie replied smartly.

     “I’m sure you do,” the Grarrl replied, his nostrils flaring. “And the guards I post at your door will understand how you work, Betrayer. They will have as little time for your lies as I.”

     He turned quickly on his heel and marched out. Sasha followed in short order, the Cybunny giving the Darkest Faerie one last reproachful look before leaving. To Sasha, she looked broken, somehow. Deflated, in a way Sasha had never seen her before.

     “Do not trust her, Sasha,” Torakor said as they walked together down the corridor. “She is playing us, as she always does. Your pity is exactly what she wants.”

     “Yes, of course,” Sasha replied in a voice that made it clear she was full of doubts. “Let us see what Kelland discovers.”

     A soldier was waiting at the end of the corridor for Torakor. He handed him a scroll which the Grarrl read with a furrowed brow.

     “Anything the matter?” Sasha asked. “Besides the obvious, I mean.”

     “It is the daily report,” Torakor said. “A few minor cases of pickpocketing in the market, suspects already identified. But, there is an act of graffiti in the Arena District discovered in the last hour. I can’t remember the last time the Colosseum was defaced. I wonder if we have a new arrival to thank.”

     “Graffiti is the least of our concerns,” Sasha said. “Did it at least say anything interesting?”

     “Xantan was right! Not even a political slogan. Still, we must launch an investigation. Surveillance of the area, questioning of witnesses. All resources that I must redirect from guarding her.”

     “Do not trouble yourself with it,” Sasha said. “Allow me.”

     “You?”

     “The happiness of the citizens is my charge, is it not?” Sasha told him. “Graffiti is the artwork of the dispossessed. I will investigate this. Find whoever is responsible and why. You’re right, your soldiers are needed elsewhere at present.”

     Torakor gave it a moment’s consideration but then nodded in thanks. He had new guard rotas to work out, patrols to redirect. So much to do. Any help would be welcome.

     ***

     The birds were chirping in the air of Faerieland, nestled in the trees feeding their young. Faerie City was always a serene place, rarely troubled by anything in the Haunted Woods beyond the crater where it now rested. Even the dark miasma of the bluff surrounding Jhudora’s ruined castle was somehow placated. Faeries went about their business with abandon. The horrors of the Fall that sundered the city all those years ago were wholly forgotten.

     The bright flash that heralded Kelland’s arrival was hardly remarkable. Teleportation spells were relatively trivial for a Faerie to create, and many popped in and out of existence across the city as regularly as carriages in the smokestacks of Neopia Central.

     Kelland himself could never get used to the sensation. For a Techo who was used to creeping slowly in the shadows, the feeling of being propelled thousands of miles in an instant, surrounded by the golden yellow light of Siyana’s magic, was as far from comfort as he could imagine. He had taken to kneeling before she began the spell, hoping the ground might give him some sense of normality during the process, though it never did. After he arrived, he remained kneeling for several minutes as he waited for the sensation of the world spinning around him to pass, before standing and making his way further into Faerie City. At it’s heart, the spires of Fyora’s Palace loomed high.

     The Faerie Kougras that guarded the main gates recognised him, and saluted their ready swords in greeting. Most of the Altadorian Council had been frequent visitors to Faerieland, and Altador had supported the Faeries greatly in the rebuilding efforts after the Fall. Such things were not easily forgotten.

     Word must have been sent ahead by some scout in the city, as in the Palace’s main foyer there was a knight waiting for him. She was a white Xweetok clad in armour made of a strange, pink metal that moved as if she was wearing something as light as silk.

     “Lady Falmouth,” Kelland said in greeting.

     Lady Isobel Falmouth was in many ways Kelland’s opposite number in Faerieland. While neither Altador nor Faerieland went in for the idea of organised spycraft, both acknowledged the need for espionage at times. Kelland was often looked on to perform the less desirable tasks that the Altadorian Government required. And it was much the same for Falmouth in Faerieland. She moved where Queen Fyora could not. A sword in the shadows.

     “Councilor Kelland,” she greeted him in kind. “We were not expecting anyone from Altador. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

     “I need to speak with Her Majesty immediately,” Kelland said.

     “She is in meetings for most of the day,” Falmouth told him.

     “She will want to cancel them for this, believe me,” Kelland added. “The Darkest Faerie has returned to Altador.”

     This was enough to elicit a look of shock from Falmouth, and the wordless understanding that followed. Visiting petitioners to the court of the Faerie Queen were kindly, but firmly, told they were to wait. Kelland was ushered into Fyora’s throne room as soon as she was able to see him. Falmouth stayed, hovering at the side of the throne like a planet in orbit around a star. Fyora wore a grave expression, but as ever something about her presence put Kelland more at ease.

     “Jerdana is certain she is contained?” Fyora asked at last when the Techo had finished relaying his story.

     “Quite certain,” Kelland replied. “She kept us all in the dark about this secondary curse. Only herself and King Altador were aware.”

     “I was not informed either,” Fyora said.

     In anyone else, Kelland would have taken that as a rebuke, but somehow Fyora managed to phrase it merely as a statement of fact.

     “It certainly makes things slot more into place,” the Faerie Queen added. “Her actions when she reappeared at the Faerie Festival seemed like those of desperation. The plan to cover the Haunted Woods in poisonous gas was not her finest. Now I understand. She knew her power was fading. If she did not do something, anything, she would soon find herself in a position where she would be unable to do anything at all. Her last throw of the dice, as it were.”

     “We heard reports of the Festival,” Kelland said with a nod. “King Altador and Jerdana doubt her motives, the others are more easily convinced by her. I am here to attain if she really does wish to redeem herself.”

     “You seek my council? You all know her much better than I,” Fyora said. “What else can I give you?”

     “I am to trace her steps,” Kelland said. “Find evidence of her change, or lack thereof.”

     “You will find nonesuch in Faerieland, I am afraid,” Fyora said. “Even before her Betrayal, she had few friends in the city. There was a reason she left, after the Wars, so long ago. She could not let old conflicts die so easily, and that does not endear you towards others.”

     “I understood there was a Lupe who spent time with her during the events of the Festival?” Kelland said. “Might I interview him?”

     “Certainly,” Fyora agreed. “His name is Reizo. He is often found in the company of Kaia, a young Faerie who came to us from Shenkuu.”

     Lady Falmouth provided a low cough.

     “My Queen, if I may?” she asked. “Both Kaia and Reizo left Faerieland some days ago. We do not have reports on their whereabouts.”

     Kelland sighed.

     “Then perhaps you could work to track her movements between leaving the Festival and arriving in Altador?” Fyora suggested. “There is an area of the graveyards near Neovia in the Haunted Woods. They call it the Forgotten Graveyard, very difficult to find if you have not first been told where it is. That is where she constructed her device, the ruins of which should still be there. You should be able to pick up her trail nearby, if indeed she left one.”

     “Wise counsel, as ever,” Kelland agreed.

     “Isobel will fashion you with the maps on how to find it,” Fyora added. “I will keep myself appraised of the situation in Altador. If things should turn sour again, as ever, you need only call and you will have my aid.”

     Kelland was well aware. He only hoped they would never have to use the Rainbow Flare again.

     To be continued…