To Fae and Back

Part One

        The smoke from his home burning behind him was only part of the reason tears rolled down Lothar’s young face as he stared at the lifeless bodies of his father and sisters before him. He sank to the ground and let all his rage and sorrow escape in a howl. The cold air bit at him, but he ignored it, pounding the ground with his fists.

        Minutes passed, and still his tears flowed. Lothar wiped his nose and cheeks on his sleeve, then stood up, forcing his aching body to move as he willed it to. His mother had been taken by the invaders from the Fae world. One of his sisters had often gone there despite their family’s wishes she remain near the home, so Lothar knew how to get there. But getting his mother back would be difficult, and that was even if she was still alive.

        The wind was cold, and like some evil beast, sought to attack all in its path, where skin was not visible, it blasted against the young man, searching for places to get inside, like a dog after a rabbit. Lothar was dressed for the cold, as he had had work to do on the farm, and so wasn’t bothered much, but still he shivered on occasion.

        He went back to the house and grabbed a long dagger from the crumbling building. It was the only weapon he could use to some proficiency, and the only one they had on the stead. He took a few things, including food and and one of his mother’s shawls, and looked around one last time at his home before leaving the house. 

        Knowing that he had no idea what would happen to his mother, he placed blankets weighted by stones over the remains of his father and sisters, vowing to give them a good resting place once his mother was safe.

        The sky, while overcast during the raid, had darkened since then and promised rain. Lothar almost didn’t care, but even he knew that would make him even more miserable. Yellow leaves were strewn about the wind, leaving the trees even more bare than before. Looking up, Lothar felt a the first drop of rain, and decided to get a move on before it was pouring.

        He entered the forest, and with dark sky above, it was almost pitch black inside. However the trees did stop the rain from falling directly on Lothar. He brushed aside his ragged shocks of hair and dove farther into the forest, knowing the way better than he would have liked to admit.

        The sounds and beauty of the forest around him were ignored, as he only focused on following the path his sister had shown him. It did not take long to arrive at the place where the two worlds crossed, and his breath caught as he saw the place he had found his sister many times before, and never would again. It was an old oak tree that had been burnt black in ages past yet still stood. It was barren of leaves, and a great hole had been ripped open at the base of the tree from some unknown force. It was through here that one could get to the Fae world.

        Squeezing his small but stout frame inside, Lothar crawled down the tunnel where once his sister had taken him. He wiped tears from his eye, bumping his arm painfully into one of the cramped tunnel walls as he did so. The dirt crumbled a little, giving a nice earthy smell. He followed the tunnel for several minutes until it leveled out then lead upwards.

        Lothar emerged in a dark forest, brushing off dirt. He was thankful there was light here, unlike the tunnel, though it was still dark. The change between this word and his own was always a surprise. It was darker here, the air heavier, as if it was incensed, and none of the flora was anything like that back home. Lothar could clearly see the tracks the brownies from this realm had taken. Looking closely he made out signs of he thought was his mother struggling. So she was hopefully still alive, at least when she had been taken here. That was good news.

        He kept on, until he came to place thirty meters in diameter with no trees or shrubs, and a rocky wall on one side with a gaping hole in it. It was from that evil looking maw that he heard a woman screaming. “Mother!” Heedless of any danger, Lothar ran through the clearing not stopping until he he was thrown aside by an unseen force.

        Wiping blood from his lip as he stood, and pushing his long black hair out of his eyes, he was able to see what had stopped him. A large dragon stood in front of him, staring at him with its large, violet eyes. It was slim, with purple scales on its limbs, sides, and back, and cream colored scales on its underside and neck. It’s head came to a narrow point, and its edges seemed to every so slightly evaporate into mist. It eyes seemed to pierce into his very soul.

        He drew his dagger and slashed at the dragon’s forearm. The knife slid right through the dragon as if it really was a misty illusion, leaving no mark to speak of. Leaping back, and still breathing hard, Lothar examined the dragon through the hair that had once again fallen into his face.

        “Boy, were you not told that we of the Fae world are not harmed by your toys from the other side,” the dragon said solemnly, peering at him curiously with one eye. She had a low voice that sounded like crystal bells, and an accent that enhanced the melodic sound of her voice. “You cannot injure me with that. Run home before I decide you look delicious enough to eat, or before my hunger grows so that I don’t care.” There was a deadly glint in her eye as she stood imposingly between Lothar and the cave. Letting a small flame that looked more like shadow than fire, the dragon took a step towards Lothar.

        Lothar ignored the warnings given by the dragon, feinted to the right, then ran to the left, trying to slash again. He caught the dragon by surprise, but once more left nothing. Laughing, the dragon batted him away with a powerful paw, sending Lothar tumbling.

        The dragon lowered it’s head. “Would that you had a good weapon,” she praised, “for you would make a glorious opponent. You caught me by surprise; few have done that. Though I wear many titles, my mother named me Suffra when I was but a hatchling. What did your mother name you when you were a hatchling?”

        “Lothar,” he said through bared teeth, brushing his hair behind his ears. “Lothar son of Wulfram.”

        “Lothar Wulframsson,” Suffra said, turning the name about in her mouth. “A good name for a good opponent. Now go, it would be a shame for you to die here.”

        Lothar ignored the dragon, and again he charged straight at her. He pushed forward with his legs, giving his all even though he was aching and tired. 

        With a lazy swipe of her paw, Suffra threw Lothar into the air. The breath was taken from him as he slammed into a tree ten yards away then again as he hit the ground in a painful heap. His whole body hurt, and he felt something trickling down his face. Lothar stood up, and almost fell. Steadying himself against the very same tree that had stopped him in his flight, Lothar looked at the dragon, feeling quite dismayed and hopeless.

        “It is quite rude to keep ignoring me,” Suffra yawned. “Begone.” She turned and went into the cave.

        Lothar could do nothing but fall to the ground and cry. Why did this have to happen to him? He lost almost everyone he loved, and now he was about to lose his last living member of his family. He couldn’t take it. If only he was stronger, he could save his mother.

        It was then that Lothar felt a small hand on his shoulder. Looking back, he saw a girl who looked no older than eleven, and who could be no taller than his thigh. Her pale skin glowed so that it was almost as bright as her golden hair. She wore a simple dress, and had two magnificent butterfly wings spreading from her back like a peacocks feathers.

        “Lothar, don’t cry,” she said in a gentle voice that Lothar was sure was not any language he knew.

        “Suffra is strong, but she is not invincible,” she held out a hand to him. “Come with me, and we can yet save your mother.” 

The End for now . . .
God Bless

Read part two here.