After regarding him for a few moments, Stella beckoned Darin to join her. Leading his horse by the bridle, he crossed the stream and climbed the grassy bank to where the faerie girl was waiting for him at the edge of the forest. She turned without speaking and started walking back into the trees. Still leading Dart, Darin followed her to a tiny glade in the middle of which lay the trunk of a fallen oak tree, whose branches had long since been taken, no doubt to make a cheerful blaze in some cottager’s hearth during the winter months.
Stella settled herself on the fallen tree and with a graceful gesture invited Darin to sit beside her. At last, she broke the silence.
“Well, what’s troubling you?”
Darin looked at her in some dismay. There was no warmth or eagerness in her voice and her wide blue eyes gave nothing away as they gazed steadily into his own. If anything, all he could detect in them was the faintest shadow of sadness. It was all so much in contrast with his own emotion at being in the presence of the damsel he had dreamed about day and night that he was unable to speak.
“Well?” she asked again.
The clearing was narrow and the trees crowded around them, so that the direct rays of the sun fell only upon the mossy oak on which they sat; bright flakes of light sprinkled down by the gently swaying boughs above danced across the forest floor. Looking up, Darin was dazzled by momentary beams, as a branch tossed here or there, leaves glowing, translucent green gold. No queen or princess in her regal palace, he thought, splendidly arrayed in silks and glittering gems, was ever more glorious than this barefoot faerie damsel in her woodland hall.
Making an effort to control himself, he began. The words tumbled over each other as he recounted the story of his nocturnal visitor and the conversation he had overheard on his way from the castle.
“I can make nothing of it,” he finished. “I’m convinced that some unnatural force is at work here, so I came to you. I could think of no one else who might have any understanding of such things.”
Stella stared at him; her brow wrinkled ever so slightly. In the glade, the babble of the stream they had left behind was a mere whisper, scarcely distinguishable from the rustling of leaves overhead, but it seemed to grow louder as he looked into those hypnotic eyes. He averted his gaze.
“And did your visitor say anything?” she asked at last.
“As I told you, he taunted me with my weakness and loss of will. I cannot remember his exact words.”
“Think. Try to remember. Was there nothing else?”
Darin put his mind back to the scene in his bedchamber on the previous night. “Yes, he said something about the sins of the father being visited upon the son. Something like that.”
For the first time, he saw a flicker of interest in Stella’s eyes. “Karman?” she asked quickly. “He spoke of your father?”
Darin nodded. Stella’s frown deepened and she sat in thought. “If this is about Sir Karman,” she said finally, “then Morgan the Enchantress is behind it. I feared she would not let him go so easily.”
“But . . . how?”
“She is a powerful necromancer. She could easily have enlisted the help of some poor, weak-willed spirit, chained to the earth by unfinished business. It’s not beyond her art to call a lost soul like that from beyond the grave and give it some kind of body. With your appearance.”
“To take revenge on me for freeing my father? By bringing me into disrepute?”
“Yes.” Stella frowned again. “I cannot think that will be enough for her, however. I am sure she has more trouble in mind.”
Her sudden air of involvement was heartening. “The question is, then, how can we stop Morgan and this double of mine? And what must I do about the knights who are looking for me?”
“You must not let yourself be apprehended yet.” Stella spoke now with less hesitation. “We must first see what Morgan’s plans are. Go home and arm yourself, then come back here to me. Make sure you are not seen!”
“And if I should meet with this phantom knight—if I’m helpless at the sight of him again? Have you no magic to send him back to wherever Morgan found him?”
Stella sighed. “Although I am of the faerie race, I have no magic, as you call it. Our knowledge and understanding of the natural world goes beyond yours, of course, but we are not sorcerers or necromancers. However, though I may have no power over such spirits, the way they appear to us is only a question of light—and light can be manipulated. Were I able to show you the true face of your enemy, you would be free to act.”
“Can such a creature be stopped?”
“If you destroy the body it has been conjured into, the spirit will return to the world of shadows. To do that, you must cut off its head.”
Darin stared at her for a moment and jumped to his feet. “Very well. I’ll go home at once. There will be a moon tonight. I can be back here armed by morning.”
“Good. In the meantime, I shall go and see my brother. He promised to help me find something which might give me power over Morgan.”
“Really? What’s that?”
Stella shrugged. “I don’t know why, but she is desperately searching for a missing axe.”
Darin stiffened. It had to be the same. “Not the Green Knight’s axe?”
Her lips parted in surprise. “How did you know?”
“I have sworn to find it. It was my father’s quest. He believed that one day it might save Camelot.”
“Then let’s hope my brother has heard something.”
Stella walked with Darin as he led Dart out of the trees and onto the hillside overlooking the stream. “Farewell,” she said. “Be careful.”
At first, as he rode back through the forest, he drew courage from Stella’s obvious concern. But gradually he began to grow uneasy. His feelings about her had undergone a subtle change since he had finally seen her again. She had seemed distant at first; only after he mentioned his father did she show any interest in his story.
Why had she helped him free Karman from Morgan’s spell in the first place? He remembered, as he had done countless times before, her laughing eyes as she sat close to him on his horse; he remembered her voice in the forest night, as she told him of distant faerie worlds. For the first time in his life, he felt the cruel stab of jealousy. She was more interested in his father than she was in him! And what was that she had said just now? Appearance is a question of light and can be manipulated? Was Broderic right in thinking she had tricked him so cruelly by the rock pool that day? Ah, but he had probably deserved it.
He urged Dart onwards. Enough. Whatever reasons she may have, she wants to help. Just think about what has to be done; and don’t forget there are three knights out looking for you.