Reunions in the Erlking’s Court

Lux got a feel for the sheer size of the Erlking’s citadel when she scouted here before, but the closer she gets, the more it unnerves her. She’s seen many a castle, fort or keep in her travels, solidly built and imposing by mortal standards, but this… Each segment of wall is a stone slab too big to move, something that even the mightiest giants could not easily piece together. Lux pauses before the high arch of the entryway to extract a less-than-happy Minn from her cleavage, buying time to steel herself before crossing that threshold.

Aside from the megalithic solidity of the structure itself, something about the atmosphere here weighs down on Lux. In a way, it reminds her of the strange, uncanny feeling she had once or twice in the dryads’ glade; the sense of unreality, as she’d thought. Or maybe it’s something else – an impression that these places are more real than the rest of the Valley, denser concentrations of the magic that’s endemic here.

Torches blaze in brackets on the walls – and something tells Lux they haven’t been recently replaced. They might have burned there for centuries, never diminishing, because it never occurred to the lord and master of the house that they should. Dust is everywhere on the floor, yet the trophies and drapes mounted on the walls remain spotless and vibrant.

Minn hovers low, cowed as Lux is by the **** of this place’s sheer presence. But Sylvia strides ahead, more driven than ever, and in her wake Lux finds the strength to follow.

Off the main hall, they step into another grand chamber. On a slightly raised dais, a great stone throne presides over the room, the sweeping antlers of some impossibly vast beast adorning its top. Seated – well, slouched in the seat is a figure, the merest glimpse of whom takes Lux’s breath away.

In another place, another world, she might have thought him to be a particularly pretty and well-built elf, if not for the bright, magnificent, wings on his back – like those of a bird, but with golden leaves in place of feathers. His face has the same kind of beauty as Sylvia’s; although Lux should be too far away to make out much detail just yet, it’s as if a blur of contradictory images plant themselves in her mind without her eyes getting a say. Young and old, pretty and rugged, all leaving a sense of majesty, power…and an expression of dull, empty contentment.

The Erlking. The great and powerful ruler of the Valley. Reduced to Athisz’s vacantly-smiling puppet.

Sylvia takes a slow, determined step forward. “My Lord,” she calls out, “will you recognise me in your Court? We have much to discuss.”

There’s a hiss. The hideous face of Athisz appears from behind the throne, followed by that long, glittering body, unfolding like a magic trick from a nightmare. “You will not be recognised,” she announces, moving to intercede between the reunited King and Queen.

The Erlking takes a moment to react, sitting forward unsteadily in his seat. His eyes mist over, his hand trembling as he reaches out. “My love…” he manages, his voice a croak.

“No, not your love!” Athisz cries. “The heartless, nagging, uppity bitch you rightfully cast away! I am your love! Forever devoted and – ”

The glance Sylvia casts towards the naga holds enough venom to drop a horse dead. “Begone with you, snake. I would speak with my husband.”

Athisz hisses and coils to strike – only to spring aside as a wall of thorned vines sprouts up between the Hamadryad and her. Fear, anger and…something else war in her twisted expression. She tries to recover balance –

Now. Lux dashes forward, sword tightly gripped. Before Athisz can realise what is happening, Lux has sunk the blade’s tip deep beneath the scales of – is this part of the neck? She realises she has little idea where the organs are stored inside a snake. Well, if at first you don’t stab the heart…

But the element of surprise is gone now. With a roar of anger, Athisz thrashes and flails, tossing Lux aside. The sword still embedded in her body. Lux catches herself as gracefully as she can. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a last glimpse of Sylvia marching towards where the Erlking sits before the brambles finish cutting off the throne room. All Lux needs to do is to buy time –

That snake-tail comes around like a whip. Lux scrambles for cover, Athisz’s long body surging after her, yelling incoherent threats.

They burst back through into the main hallway – no way out but to head straight towards Athisz’s reinforcements. Lux turns to face her pursuer, teeth gritted. Buying time might not be as easy as it sounds.

Athisz lets out a snarl of frustration, her serpentine body unwinding until her head almost brushes against the high ceiling.

“Little mammal,” she hisses, “at least I will have the satisfaction of devouring you…”