Caer looked into a mirror left by Mab and saw a Queen standing before her, framed in the light of the light of morn, a witch of great power who would fight to her dying breath. And though the world grew cold, the cloth of the fairies kept her snug and warm, made in Elphame by magical looms.
“It will do?” she asked Beoreth.
“Yes, dear. When we arrive in Ull, we can do better.”
The curtain of the pavilion opened and Mab entered. Her eyes seemed unsure, and her hands clutched a long, thin linen package. Her expression cleared and with resolve she approached Caer.
The Fairy Queen opened the package, and Caer looked on, dumbstruck by its contents: a sword, gleaming the color of silver, etched with runes. A single piece of black leather formed the hilt, and upon it fused a golden rune she did not recognize. Beside the blade lay its sheath, as bright blue as the skies, studded with diamonds from top to bottom. At its top she saw the same rune as the sword.
“I present to you Hünjjuerad, Caer,” Mab chose her words with precision and seemed hurt to part with the sword. “It means ‘Hammerfell’.”
“It’s mine?” Caer breathed. Unsure, she grasped the hilt of the sword and hefted it, realizing it held the magic of the fairies. In her grasp it seemed light as a feather.
“It belonged to another,” Mab spoke. “Last your father King Gareth, who my people know as Chaíhünjjuer, the Warhammer, held this sword. His name and the name of his sword the fairies gave to him. In his hand, your father found his sword strong and true. Alas, an ambush in the western woods took his life.”
Beoreth strapped the sheath to Caer’s waist, and fearful of the blade, guided Caer to sheath it.
“Your mother entrusted Hünjjuerad to me, and hoped you might wield it,” Mab told her as her eyes misted. “May it bring you victory, and avenge itself in battle, though I do not believe it will be held in your hand.”
Mab said nothing more and strode from the pavilion, leaving Caer to wonder of the sword, an artifact of her past, and a tool against her enemy she never knew existed.
*****
It seemed strange to no longer be a small party. Caer rode beside Headred, flanked by Mab and Elric, Beoreth and Huma, and all the fairies who walked and rode in the procession. Though no one taught Caer to ride, she found if she spoke to the horses, they listened and obeyed her command.
Since their departure, Headred refrained from speaking to her, his eyes fixed on some point beyond where she sat. He closed his mind to her now, his emotions no longer playing on his face.
Something changed between their night of passion and her walk. He pulled her out of the door and did not speak to her since.
Mab spoke to him before they left, drawn to the anger and the fury in his tone, and not meaning to, Caer heard.
“Within the door lies the heart of the mountain, the heart of Miðgarðir beats in Belial and Caer,” Mab said.
“The shadow!” he replied with fury. “The demon’s spirit freezes the lands. So long as she lives, evil lives in the heart of the world.”
“’Tis so,” Mab laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “And yet hope and good remain in the heart of Miðgarðir.”
“It draws her to the black path like a moth to a flame,” he growled, not comforted by the Fairy Queen’s words.
“It draws the one chosen to hold it. But the heart of the world resides now in two people, and it becomes divided. Neither good nor ill may possess the heart as long as the winter remains, and the battle rages on.”
“We will rest here.” Elric’s words drew Caer out of her memories as Headred jolted the horse to a stop. “Eat and be merry for a while.”
“Will you speak to me?” Caer looked at Headred, at his face as hard and cold as stone.
“Do as you wish,” he mumbled. “I am but a prophet, and I am not so free. I am to serve others. You are still my Queen.”
“Do you believe I am just your monarch?” she asked.
“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I am.”
Headred helped her down. She held out her hand, but he reached past it and took the reins of the horse.
“Do not let your spirit be troubled, milady,” Elric said, his voice hushed. “His heart hurts, but it will mend. The power of the Y Erianrod mends all things. The bonds of love you share the gods forged before your mother placed her spell upon you. The gods themselves forged these bonds, and none, not even a hardened heart, may stand against the power of the gods.”
*****
Caer rested beneath the shade of a tree and nibbled on fairy bread and cheese. Beoreth sat not far away, tended to by the healing magic of the fairies, and every so often the old wise woman exclaimed in pleasure how they healed the hurts of her old age.
But now everything became quiet, and everyone rested. Headred left to attend to the horses, and afterward disappeared with Elric. Caer’s heart bled as she enjoyed the respite from the journey and wondered.
His pride hurt more than anything. And his temper flared because he feared for her. She imagined someone he cared about being in danger would fill his heart with terror. A witch by birth, danger would follow her like moths followed a flame. And Headred, prophet and man, would have to get used to it.
And her time with Headred meant everything, more than he would ever know. It changed her forever, and it seemed all she knew for sure.
“Come, daughter of light,” Mab said. As always, her voice soothed Caer’s worries. Although Mab led two saddled horses, care did not hear.
She glanced around. “Where did Headred go?”
“We will ride alone for a while.” The look on Mab’s face bordered on pity. “And he will ride alone.”
“If he wishes,” she said and looked up at the horse. She named him Firesong, after a dragon in children’s tales and yarns.
“Do not fear. The horses are creatures of the sidhes and live in my home. They will do as I command them.”
Caer took little comfort in this and felt awkward as she hoisted herself into the saddle.
Mab already sat on the other animal, gazing over to her. “See, my daughter? ‘Tis not so hard,” she said. “Naï.”
The horses responded, setting themselves into a trot.
“Soon we will come to Ull, and beyond the city lays the Vigil.”
Caer understood what the fairy implied; where your mother lays.
Mab continued, “By nightfall we will reach the council at Glasheim, where the four races gather and await the Y Erianrod.”
“Aye,” Caer said, holding onto the horse as tight as she could and praying it did not throw her off.
Mab looked at her. “Do you know Caer, daughter of Beren, the history of your line, and the history of the prophets?”
Caer nodded.
“You know my brother Aske chose a mortal life in the service of others.”
“And you chose an immortal life, dwelling in lands beyond the world,” Caer finished, wondering where Mab went with this.
“Aye, I did. Never have I regretted my choice. Yet I don’t mean to speak of that.”
“What do you wish to speak of?”
“Before your birth, the balance of the world never changed. Yet you are bound to one destined to be your equal. Such things are sacred, and not to be undone.” Seeming to change the subject, Mab asked, “Do you wonder why the fairies have wings?”
Caer shook her head.
“‘Tis the curse we bear. Forever we are bound to the lands beneath the earth. Never to remain in the mortal realm, never to spend our days in flight.”
“Yet you accepted your curse, to have what you most desire.” Caer knew her response seemed somewhat callous. She forgave herself anyway, preoccupied with her many other concerns.
Mab nodded. “Yet you also bear a curse, not in your lineage, but in the destiny forged for you before your birth. Forged not by your mother, but the witch before her, and the demon Moloch, from whose seed Belial came.”
Caer frowned.
“You bear the greatest of all curses, for you do not choose the destiny you face, and for your destiny, the one you love suffers.”
“But I do not walk away,” Caer responded in anger. “He walks away from me.”
“You walk away from each other. You see, the union of you and Headred, body, mind, and spirit, broke the sacred order. You have made the one you love, one destined to serve others, into a ruler of men, instead of a servant. Yet he still serves, for he knows not what else to do.”
“I do not know what to say to him.”
Mab chuckled, a sound like small bells ringing. “Say what you know within your mind. Do not fear your destiny as he fears, as most fear, what the gods set before him. And love, without question, without anything but promise, and he will know.”
Caer smiled.
“Behold Ull, Caer, daughter of Beren,” Mab changed the subject, pointing. “Behold the White City of Sul, in all mortal glory and splendor. For here your mother, and all before her, ruled these lands for the gods.”
The city, carved into the mountain lifetimes ago, rose above them, looking more gray than white against the brilliant snow. Much of the original towering walls, as high as the tallest evergreens, still stood. Others the Queen’s rebuilt and fortified with ashen marble, quarried from the vast mountain. Thick walls rose before them, with periodic enclaves indented into them. In each hollow a monument stood, of the gods of old, looking out from beneath their mountain. Wary guards walked atop the walls.
And deep within the city, like a mountain itself, rose Idalir, the Castle of the Sun.
“They are the gods.” Mab motioned to the alcove statues. “Long ago when men built this city, they made the gods face out, casting their gaze over the lands they gave your ancestors.”
Caer stared up at the city of beauty and wonder. The guards gathered and gazed down, not at the fairies but at her, the one who looked so much like her mother.
They knew her, she realized. They recognized the daughter of their Queen, returned to them at long last.
They rode along the outer wall, passing five sets of gates, all barred. At last they came to the mammoth main gates of Ull, hewn of many tall trees. It remained locked.
“‘Tis not yet time for the gates to be opened,” Mab said, leading the procession away from the city walls. “Come, let us hurry. For we must reach the council this night.”
Once they passed the city, the troop rode fast and hard along the ancient path. And in the White City whispers spread the daughter of the Queen, Y Erianrod, the gods hid no longer. and she returned to them at last.
*****
Night began to fall, and the forest thinned as Caer listened to the endless crunch of snow and wished they could rest. But in the distance she saw a light, and prayed they reached the council at Glasheim where the people gathered.
“’Tis not,” Mab told her. “’Tis Vingólf, where the Ice Queen waits.”
Caer’s heart clutched as the light grew brighter. All of the fairies passed by, until at last Caer, Headred, Beoreth, and Huma, began to ride through the clearing. Her heart jumped when Headred rode up beside her.
“Come,” Mab said.
Caer knew there would be time to speak later, as she dismounted and led her horse to the frozen Vigil.
The torches burned where she saw them in her dreams. The forest floor remained covered in thick with ice and snow, and at its center, the snow cleared to show the ice where her mother lay.
Her mother’s hair splayed back, white streaked with red, her skin pale and frozen, her eyes staring up. As long as the demon endured so would the winter freezing her.
Caer glanced over when someone touched her fingers. Headred smiled and waited, holding her hand.
You come to me at last, my daughter…
The world shifted.
I am sorry for this task you must now bear, my daughter, a voice whispered into her mind. Caer whirled to face the lady from the ice, unfrozen, as they stood alone inside the moonlight and torchlight.
Her companions disappeared.
“Why did you not end this long ago?” Caer asked, wonder and curiosity filling her heart. No noise came to Caer’s ears, not the sound of the horse or the travelers, not the movement of the creatures within the frozen woods.
Because Belial desires power, and power she will have if she possesses the future and those who see it. I did not have the courage to stop her. The lady’s white and flaming red hair spilled onto her crimson velvet-clad shoulders, clothes fit for a Queen. Do you know why I sent you into the haven, why you have lived your life without me? I could not bear the life I would give you, the life of Ull, knowing the evil, knowing what I did. Your life would have been wasted, for she would have taken it.
“I have seen her,” Caer admitted. “In the visions of Headred...” she trailed off. “Why did you bind us?”
I will tell you in time. Now your destiny awaits you, and your love awaits you as well.
“You knew you would fulfill your destiny, though you did not know why.”
Beren looked at her. I didn’t. I wanted what the gods held beyond me. So do not fail me now, my daughter, and do what must be done, what neither I nor my mother could do to end this.
Beren let her tears drift down her cheek and fall onto the snow of Vingólf.
“Milady...”
Hearing Mab’s voice, Caer turned to see Headred beside her, and Mab standing on the other side of the Vigil. Before her, Beren lay in cold sleep.
“See Glasheim, the sacred council of the gods,” the Fairy Queen spoke with gravity, her hand waving at narrow path opening not far away to show the standing stones. “Come. Your people await you.”
*****
The stars shimmered as the travelers led their horses down the most ancient path, to Glasheim, the council of the gods, location of the standing stones.
Caer led her horse, deep in thought. Mab walked alongside her, her unquestioning silence a comfort.
“Headred approaches,” Mab said and slowed to leave Caer alone.
Headred appeared beside her, breathless and leading his horse. He saw Mab’s curious stare before he turned to Caer. “What did you see?” Where she expected anger, Caer heard wonder in his voice.
Caer smiled. “I saw her. The Ice Queen.”
Headred looked down at his feet and the snow crunching under them. “Many times, I have gone to the silent Vigil, and there I have seen the White Lady.”
“What do you see in visions?” she asked, desperate to lengthen their conversation.
“Many things.” It seemed all he would say.
“The gods?”
He frowned, and his eyes flamed. “’Tis not within my power,” he said with a rueful laugh. “We approach Glasheim.”
Without thinking she took his arm and stopped him. Headred turned to face her.
“I fear many things will change in the coming days,” she told him. “But what happened between us last night changed me more than anything else. I will not see my caring for you lost as my life remained lost for so long.”
He stopped before her and said nothing, but his features softened as he listened.
“I do not care what destiny the gods have given you. You are bound to me, and I to you. No fate can change the love I give to you, or you to me.”
“Aye,” he agreed, and brushed his lips over hers. When he drew away he smiled. “We must all follow our destinies, my love.”
“Yes, we must. My destiny will always be for you.”
Mab approached. “Come. Y Erianrod must be revealed to her people.”
And she led the way up the hill, to the sacred place, where the four races gathered, and where much would now be decided.
*****
In the late evening, the day met its coldest point. The tall stones Glasheim rose into the heavens. Caer found herself surrounded by the sheer grandeur of the spectacle, where legends said magic became greatest in power.
Her horse snorted as it trotted up
the hill, Headred and Mab on either side. Mab spoke in hushed tones to Huma who trudged beside her and shivered in the cold.
Hundreds gathered here. Among them Caer saw centaurs, some of whom Caer saw in the woods as a child, like Gehrdon and Cahros, lovers for as long as she knew them. They watched over her, she realized, so she would never be alone. Through them, Caer realized, Beoreth knew so much of the outside world.
Nymphs gathered as well, tall and willowy, short and strong, their skin like her own, but darker and thicker, like tree bark. Their hair blew wild and free, brittle it seemed at first, but at a closer look like branches upon their heads, scattered with the leaves and colors of the trees in fall.
Caer searched for male nymphs but found them nowhere.
“Where are…” she started to ask, but Mab held up her hand and cut her off.
“There are fewer men among the nymphs than any other race,” Mab whispered. “They mate every so often. They are born after the trees are born, and their spirits give the trees life.”
Although Caer saw no men among the nymphs, she saw no lack of them in the camp of humans. She saw hundreds of men and women, with children clutched to mother’s skirts.
The women glanced at her in fear, the children in wonder, and the men in deep, blinding hatred.
“Stay close to me,” Mab instructed, and Caer let Headred steer her to follow Mab, away the mortal gathering.
The fairies already set up their pavilions at the base of the hill on which the stone circle stood. Everyone seemed afraid to sleep where the gods walked. Perhaps they feared they would meet with the gods in their sleep.
“Mab, Queen of the immortal realm,” a voice said, sounding as the rustling of leaves in the wind.
Caer gazed over and saw a nymph. Though young, as all nymphs not rotted appeared young, Caer saw a power within her, a wisdom in her youth and near immortality.
Mab smiled. “Hail, Baros, Lady of the Wood.” Mab dismounted.
Headred jumped down and handed the reins of his horse to Huma. Headred held out his hand to help Caer down.
Caer waited in the snow, watching the Fairy Queen and the Lady of the Wood talk in hushed tones. After a while they turned to her.
“Hail, Daughter of the gods,” Baros said, her voice hushed. “Danger waits here for you, milady, among your mortal kin.”
“Will men rebel?” Headred asked.