Spring Fantasy: The Return of the Queen

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. In fact, it is said that all the rivers ran backwards that day and the tides reversed, backing into the sea. The entire continent was disrupted, perhaps the entirety of Theia. All for the want of our Queen.

Those of us living inland were certain this was a sign that the great Poseidon had something to do with Her Majesty’s disappearance. The Sea Elves, and others who knew Poseidon well, thought it simply because her abduction had angered the Sea God.

“What did Lord Myrddin think?”

Silvanis blinked, adjusted his eyeglasses, and frowned down at the small group of children sitting on the ground around him, facing the very river in question. It took him a moment to realize that one of them had interrupted his lecture. “What was that?” he sputtered. “Who said that?”

All eyes turned to the dark-eyed girl at the back of the room. She sat a full head taller than the dwarven children. Deep purple eyes stared at him, sparkling with curiosity, and a note of mischief. For surely, she seemed to be enjoying his discomfiture as the other students looked from him to her and back again as if watching a rousing game of rockball.

“Caroline,” he growled.

Which she took as a sign to repeat her question, rather than as the warning it should have been. “What did Lord Myrddin think?”

“How should I know what Merlanaus thought?” he snapped.

And immediately regretted it.

“No one asked him what he thought of such a strange occurrence? Plus, he was the Queen’s advisor at the time, wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he have known something about the Queen’s disappearance?”

“No,” he muttered, “we did not ask the Great Merlanaus his thoughts. He was, as per his usual, curiously absent.” Purple eyes bore through him and suddenly the rock upon which he sat became most uncomfortable. “Not that one absence has anything to do with the other, of course.”

“Of course,” Caroline echoed, chewed her lip a moment, and then wrote something in her book, the scratching of the quill tip loud in the sudden silence.

Someone giggled.

He cleared his throat and looked sharply around the group for the imp who dared laugh at him, but fifteen faces devoid of emotion stared back, and Caroline, right eyebrow lifted like a question mark and quill poised above that book of hers. “Some,” he began, then coughed, mouth and throat suddenly parched. “Some few believed that Lord Myrddin may have chased the culprit through the veil to Terra, and, er, lost them. No one knows for certain when he returned, only that one day, many months later, smoke began to drift from his tower once more. He would answer his door for no one. Not even when the King brought the young Princess to him, seeking his counsel for the inconsolable babe had taken strangely ill.”

“That’s the same day he brought me here,” a small voice spoke from the back of the group, distant and wistful.

He scanned the group and once again, all heads turned to Caroline, who, this time, gazed off in the direction of Myrddin’s Tower as if she could see into its stone walls, despite the distance and the forests and mountains that lay between. “Are you certain, child?” he asked before he realized he had let loose his thoughts aloud.

Purple eyes swiveled slowly back to him. “I’m certain,” she replied, and the veracity in her words made him certain of it too. “Also. It took me months to light the fire.”

Silvanis blinked, adjusted his eyeglasses, and did his best not to let his mouth drop open as all the dwarven children first gaped then turned their eyes to him for comfort. It was unheard of for a child, nay, infant, to wield magick in their first decade of life, let alone in their first year. He cleared his throat again, “no, um, no doubt that is why he chose you as his apprentice, my dear.”

Just then, one of the children let out a shriek. He watched Caroline’s lips move in reply, something about “that wasn’t the only reason” and he was so eager to learn more that he did not pay attention. Then she stood along with the rest of the children and stared down towards the river. He turned, slowly, as if time were distorting and he were moving through thick honey. The excited chatter and voices of the children also came to his ears in warped waves of sound as if they were traveling miles to reach him.

And the river.

“Caroline!” Merlanaus’s voice barked sharply from somewhere behind. “We must go.”

“But…”

“Now!

“But the river…”

Silvanus blinked and adjusted his eyeglasses. The river was running backwards.

“I know,” he heard Merlanaus sigh. “We need to get to the palace.”

He turned without realizing and found himself staring into the sharp, blue eyes of the Great Wizard, Merlanaus, or Lord Myrddin as some called him. The wizard’s hands were placed lightly on his shoulders and the man’s lips were mouthing words he could not quite understand.

Then Merlanaus gave him a rough shake and yelled close to his face, “Silvanus! You need to get these dwarvlings back to the stronghold. Tell Orlen to meet me at the palace with a legion of the stoutest Dwarf-guard. It is happening again, and the Princess is in danger. Silvanus!”

“Yes, yes, my lord.” He began to grab children by the shoulders to turn them round towards the path they had followed down to the river from the stronghold. “Orlen. Dwarf-guard. Princess. As fast as we can, little ones! Back to your parents. Quickly now!”

A hand grabbed his shoulder, and he stopped to stare at it for a moment, his body screaming to run while his mind waded slowly through Merlanaus’ words. “It’s happening again.” “…danger.”

“Master Silvanus? Sir?”

Purple eyes stared into him and deep in those depths both mind and body slowed, then calmed, and recentered. He swallowed, “yes, Caroline? I am okay, child. Go. Go with your Lord master. Keep each other safe, my dear.”

She nodded, giving him a soft smile. “And the Princess.”

“Yes. Yes, my dear. And the Princess.”

With that, and a swirl of grass and fallen leaves, as wizards do, both she and Merlanaus left them.

He gave the children a quick headcount to assure himself that all fifteen were racing up the path back to the stronghold, then gave the riverbank one last glance.

The water foamed and fought with itself as it churned its way back up into the mountains, leaving confused fish floundering on bare stone and frogs diving willy-nilly onto the grassy banks. A large, multi-pointed stag launched itself across the river, startling him into motion as it raced ahead of him up the path, dodging children as it ran. Birds began to flee overhead in raucous droves, and smaller animals crashed through the underbrush to join them along the path, all racing for safety.

Silvanus’ heart pounded in his ears, sounding for all the world like a giant in pursuit, and he knew he dared not look behind them lest he find something far worse.