Grey Folk

Chapter 19

Midge stared down at the white star-shaped flowers dotting the green tumble of vines that climbed up the side of the dune and curled over her bare feet. With each quick breath, she took in the intoxicating scent of jasmine.

Rita shifted from one hoof to the other in a quiet display of her own nerves, and Midge shot her a glance, reaching down to squeeze her shoulder.

"When is it officially considered 'gloaming,' anyway?" Emory asked, voice plaintive from behind Midge. He planted one hand on his side, panting briefly to recover his breath from the steep climb. She stepped up a little higher, to the flatter top of the sand dune, making room for Emory to join them.

The three of them stared out across the sun-streaked ocean, watching the slice of orange disappear into billowing purple and pink clouds at the horizon. Midge shook her head. "Not yet. It's always gloaming in the Faewild, and it's never this beautiful."

"Wait for it to get a bit more dim, then," Emory said with a nod. "The Raven Queen prefers midnight for her mysterious summons. If you were a deity what would be the time of day you demanded to speak to your subjects, Midge?"

Midge blinked, pulling her mind back from the anxiety to focus on the question. "I... I don't know." Then she was caught on the memory of the cobalt blue sky, studded with puffy white clouds, and the perfect heat of the sun bathing the whole island in warmth and life. "Perhaps midday. What about you, Rita?"

Rita shook her head. "I wouldn't like to be a deity or have subjects, or a time of day to be in charge of... it sounds exhausting."

They fell silent for a moment before Midge spoke up again. "If Chevalier tries to take me back to the Faewild, I don't want you to fight him. He's more powerful than all of us."

"I thought you said you wouldn't go back," Emory said from beneath his thick protective hood.

"I won't give up, but if you and Rita get into a fight with an Eladrin, there's only one outcome possible, and it won't be a helpful one to anybody." Midge nodded, meeting Rita's eyes, then Emory's to make sure they got her point. "Maybe you can stage a diplomatic rescue mission or some such, but don't try to fight."

Midge hoped to get an agreement out of them verbally, but before they had a chance to reply, the last bit of that burning disc of light slipped over the horizon, and the jasmine patch erupted into a vortex of arcane energy.

Swaying in the buffeting wind that swept out from the opening portal, Midge reached out to steady herself against Rita and Emory's shoulders, lifting her chin and squinting through the flurry of leaves and scented petals. The center of the jasmine patch ripped away, swirling into the endless, twisting nether visible through the tornado of magic; then the air snapped into quivering tension, the tumultuous portal disappeared, and in its place stood a pair that had not graced the Material plane in generations.

Queen Titania herself, her short hair brushing her temples and neck with tight curls, slender body clad in a pale, opalescent gown that draped artfully across her shoulders and down her breasts, cutting away to expose the dark, smooth skin across her ribs and down to her hips, then dropping in a glittering skirt that brushed the torn grass. Her eyes narrowed, lit with the dangerous glimmer of the night sky, though her rose-red lips curved into a genuine smile.

At her side stood the Eladrin who had started this whole mess; Chevalier, his milk-white skin gleaming in the meagre light of dusk, his long red hair bound back into a knot at the base of his neck and his flowing garments exchanged for a pair of tight leather trousers and a shimmery-green, loose button-up shirt, reminiscent of something the human musician Emory was so fond of, David Bowie, might have worn onstage.