The next time you see it, you will have to use it.
That is what Mab had said to her. Syrinx had seen the sword, and nothing had happened.
She stalked the dimly lit castle corridors.
It reminded her of when she and Mab had stolen the sword from her parental home. When Mab had stolen her.
As then, she had no plan. It did not worry her.
She was taking Mab's word for it that she would be alright.
Her father had been so kind to tell her during dinner where Krisler was kept. Syrinx moved as silently as possible. She did not want the guards to hear her. She wondered if she would be brave enough to attack them, if necessary.
/
There were no guards present. The door was left open.
She hesitated to go inside. When she did, she found that there was no one there. Her sword wasn't there either.
She ran back outside the room. A haunting feeling crept over her.
Syrinx made her way downstairs. She had no idea what this meant. Should she have taken the sword sooner?
She pushed a side door open. Sleep was not an option anymore.
It was cold outside, but not in a completely unpleasant way. An evening walk in this refreshing twilight might be just what she needed to find some inner peace.
She sneaked out onto the court yard. The evening smelled of wet rocks.
She walked back part of the way they had followed on horseback.
Syrinx strolled through the old city gate and entered the forest. She wondered how far she would get before she got tired of walking.
The water whispered to her as she walked past the fountain. She had noticed its presence on the way to the castle.
It was impossible not to notice.
The fountain was ornamented by huge sculptures of a knight and his lady.
The marble figure of the knight knelt in front of his stone lady for all eternity. Her arm stretched out, ordering him to go on a quest, promising him her love if he were successful. Which he undoubtedly would be.
In the dark of evening fall the white statue of the lady bore an uncanny resemblance to queen Mab.
Moonlight glistened on her skin.
Syrinx paced around the statue for a time, admiring its craftsmanship and the cold beauty of the lady.
She was about to leave the site and head back for the castle, when she heard the soft clanging of steel against wood.
She saw the shadow of a man who was training with a sword. A young man, one of the princes, judging from his posture.
Syrinx took a deep breath. Her body tensed. Well, she thought to herself, this would be as good a time as any to… stopfumblingwithyourhair. She breathed out. She was going to approach him and talk.
She lowered her hands. She could not believe she was this nervous to talk to royalty, human royalty.
/
"Are the trees putting up much of a fight?" Syrinx stepped into the pale moonlight.
His movements ceased. He lowered his arms.
The prince marched towards her. He bowed.
"My Lady Syrinx."
She grinned. It was Elgar, second son to the king and unknown to him, champion of the Old Ways.
"My lord."
Courteous greetings were exchanged. As before, the courtliness did not feel like she had imagined it to be. The words were hollow, a façade for commonness.
Now the ceremonial exchange of pleasantries could begin.
"What brings you here? So late at night."
Syrinx shuffled forest leaves with her feet as she walked to the statues with him. She did not feel like talking.
She fixed her eyes at the lady.
"Who is she?"
"A chivalric a statue from Arthur's reign." The prince said.
Syrinx smiled. "In this darkness her gown looks black."
Elgar watched her as she admired the fountain.
"You should go to your room before it gets darker and you don't find your way back."
The water whispered to her. She could not make out any words, but it sounded like a lullaby.
"The fountain, prince" she reminded him with a smile", what are these statues? I would like to know."
He moved his head sideways as if to say howcouldanyonenotrecognizethestatues. "You know what this forest is called?"
She shook her head.
"The forest of Broceliande, this is its fountain.
It is famous. The fountain and its Lady feature in of the best known tales of Camelot."
"I don't know it." Syrinx replied lightheartedly.
"She is the Lady of the Fountain, patroness of Camelot. When the old storyteller used to come to court he often told stories about her."
"Does she have a name?"
"No. I don't think so."
"And she protects the city?"
"Forever."
"She had a champion?"
"Several, I suspect.
When darkness falls over Camelot her champion comes to protect us from evil."
"What kind of evil?"
He shrugged, not caring much for these tales. "Evil in general."
"Do you believe this legend?"
"Everyone does. Her and her knight, it never feels as if they are not here."
"Because this fountain is a constant reminder." Syrinx said with a wry smile. Would a simple statue and story save Mab from being forgotten?
"It is like waiting for a friend. You know he will return, in our time of need." He laughed. "A friend who happens to be the best knight there ever was."
"The Knight of the Fountain. Sir Iwain! That was his title."
"So you have heard of these stories. He was the Lady's champion, long ago."
Syrinx smirked.
The prince turned to her. He was grinning. "You comment on every sentence I say."
"No, I am merely paying attention."
She smiled back and remained silent.
In the end he gave in and started talking again.
The whispers of the fountain prevented her from hearing everything he said. She felt the tiredness return and almost lost interest in their conversation. Everything was fading. The water wanted her to give up.
"Let us walk further, the water is making too much noise."
Syrinx nodded.
"Have I permission, Lady of the Sword," he jested "to wield this fine blade?" She had known all along that he was practicing with her sword. It attracted him. He already embraced the destiny Mab had set out for him.
"You have. But if you should prove an unworthy champion I will have to take it back and give it to some other."
He looked at her feigning insult.
"Yes," she laughed. "You can be the gallant knight who wields the sword of Krisler. I, the Lady, have spoken."
He did reply by humorously asking her for a quest. She was a bit disappointed.
"They say it holds old magic." he said caressing the blade.
"You don't believe that?"
"It is sufficient if others do. For legends, for fame."
"It could be cursed," she teased cheekily. Then changed her tone of voice. ", no one knows. There are too many stories, too few, too muddled."
"It needs new stories." He replied. She couldn't agree more.
"You can provide those." she hinted.
He swung the sword nonchalantly. "It is good steel."
"It could make you king. "
He laughed. "You mistake this blade for Excalibur. Only Excalibur can appoint a ruler."
"Most people mistake it for Excalibur. Getting this sword does not make you king. But it can decide kings. It has done so before. The people remember that." Her father had been careful not to mention this at court. It could erupt a fight for the throne.
He shook his head. "I do not want the crown. Prophetic legends or not."
She stared at him, dumbstruck.
"Why not?" She wanted to shout. She bit her tongue.
"My brother will be a good king."
"And you wouldn't?"
"You may only judge that once you get to know me."
She bit down on her lip to keep herself from speaking. Mab's champion wanted her to get to know him. That was a very good start.
She looked back at the Lady of the Fountain.
"May I carry the sword?"
He handed it over.
Her face lit up. He saw her sense of adventure.
"Are you that fond of it?" He laughed.
"Lady of the sword, can you wield a sword?
Syrinx swiftly adapted a fighting pose. "I can wield this one." She swung Krisler.
"Your hand knows the sword." He stated. "How?"
A legendary sword, lost for decades, yes, of course it was familiar to her touch. "A secret.
Do you want to fight me?"
"You? Shivering in your night gown?" He looked down. "And on your bare feet!"
Syrinx haughtily lifted her chin. "I am old enough to decide for myself when I want to get a cold."
"That you are, girl.
We can practice your fighting skills some other time."
"Other time?" She was surprised.
"Tomorrow by the fountain, around twilight. I'll bring you a sword."
She grinned.
"Weren't you convinced women shouldn't fight? It is unbecoming for a lady."
"At court one must know when to say one thing and do another. You still have to learn the ways of the court. Rule one: know when to speak the truth and when not to."
"Will you teach me?"
"There is nothing more to teach. That is the only rule. Always keep it in mind. Your life depends on it. Camelot is a complicated place."
"Cheerful advice.
What else do you do? Apart from sword play and general prince-er-y…ness?"
"Nothing that would concern a young girl. I should use the term fair maiden, if we intent to play the masquerade of chivalry."
"Yes you should." Syrinx snapped.
She did not like this teasing.
"How did you know it was me? In the forest, you recognized me."
"We had heard word to expect you."
"By whom?"
He did not answer.
Syrinx sneered at his silence.
Queen Mab, no question of it, the same voice that had told him to come here to practice tonight.
He had been hunting outside of Camelot earlier this day. Mab must have shown him to the sword then and given instructions. He wasn't even aware of it.
She wished she could feel proud of her queen for this excellent magic show, but she only felt contempt for the human who let himself be fooled.
Elgar bade her goodnight at the gate.
She made her way back to her room unaccompanied. There was hope yet that Mab's champion fancied her and that she would grow to care for him as Mab expected her to.
Syrinx had enjoyed the conversation, but she did not think about the prince in that way. Not yet.
/
Several nights had gone by since her late encounter with the youngest prince.
Her betrothal had been announced at the Round Table. Her nerves blocked out the Lord's name, again. The situation would have been easier to handle had she been warned. Or comforted afterwards.
She had been able to buy herself some time by stutteringly requesting the presence of her own priest at the wedding. It would take at least four weeks for the messenger to get to her father's castle and back again with the priest.
She barely knew the man her father wanted her to marry. Apart from some polite words during dinner the Lord did not speak to her, nor she to him. He had taken her on the occasional horsehide through Camelot and the forest, accompanied by a dozen other lords. It would not be proper to get to know each other better before the wedding. Though it would put her mind at ease.
The king's trusted counselor wished to marry her, she should be content with that and the assurance that he was a good man. She had accepted his proposal, meaning her father had.
Her father, to her surprise, had made attempts of reassuring her. He had told her that though the Lord appeared a man his age, he was barely seven years older than the youthful princes. Her father talked to her, wanted to get reacquainted with his dearest possession. Syrinx had seen more of him these lasts six days than the previous six years.
She had always loved and respected her father, only now she began to understand him. He was not as stern as she had believed him to be. She was not afraid to speak her mind to him. Though he often warned her to choose her words more carefully in the presence of others. The reason she could speak unafraid to a man of her father's status now, was because she knew someone of greater importance. A special card to keep behind her back which she could play should her father fail her expectations.
Like her father, Mab had taken her for granted. But she had been there while he had not. She had cared in a way, in her way, she had cared when he had not.
A tear escaped Syrinx eyelashes, she did not know whether that was true anymore.
She was sitting on the stone floor of her chamber. Waiting, praying, her eyes shut.
The Land of Magic was laying just in reach inside her mind. She could see every detail of her purple cave chamber, and when she would open the door she could run through to tunnels to Mab's library. And they would talk and laugh with old legends and kings as they used to. Searching books and scrolls for anything useful.
She imaged she would see the lake and the entrance to Faerie through the window of her castle chamber. To her daily disappointment, all she could see was the forest of Camelot and its fountain hidden in the distance. A view which had excited her for no longer than a day.
She had not received word from Mab in any form. Even Frik could not be missed to sent her a message. Syrinx felt deserted. She hoped her work here was not in vain.
Her believe in her stay at the faerie realm kept her going. That memory was more real to her than the very room she was in.
/
She waved her hand over the tip of a candle.
Setting light to a candle was one of the basics of hand magic. One of the only bits of magic she had truly mastered.
In the human world even this talent had left her. No more magic. Not a sparkle of magic in Camelot.
Syrinx kept her herbs, candles, knifes and ever growing stone collection in a trunk. Under her new dresses.
She was given many clothes, none as beautiful as the ones her queen had given to her. But they were still in Faerie. Except for one she had worn on her arrival. Her otherworldly dresses.
The ladies at court had taught her all about fashion and jewelry.
She had been promised her own ladies in waiting once she was married.
Despite the splendour and richness of Camelot, Syrinx could not get used to the humanness of it all.
Cold had no comforting quality here, food did not taste right, colours seemed dull, everything had small imperfections which she would not have noticed had she not seen Mab's world.
Her fingers traced the chalk drawings on her floor. Triple spirals. Pagan symbols.
They believed in Christianity here. Every day she heard the exclamations made by the noble lords and ladies: Dear God! Jesus Christ. In the name of…
Christians. It was part of her task to make them see the error of their ways. She did not know how. Unless she could drag the Fairy Queen in front of their eyes. Make Mab appear in Camelot, her quest.
How could she make them worship her without being accused of heresy, branded a pagan, put to death, burned by the church?
Syrinx shivered. The future looked grim.
Queen Mab believed she could do this. All would look better the next morning. She hoped it would.
The stories of king Arthur were set in paganism and christianity. Syrinx hoped these believes could coexist in more modern times.
/
Change was coming to Camelot. The king lay on his deathbed. It was certain he would not survive the night.
The whole of Camelot was already mourning him.
Syrinx' meetings with Mab's champion continued. Two evenings a week he taught her more about swordplay.
The fountain kept whispering to her. The water was offering a way out, an escape to Mab's plans. She had first heard water speak in the Land of Magic and now she could not remember how to unhear its voice.
Syrinx did not mention this in her prayers. It was her problem. She would find a solution or bear it till the end.
The water was patient, she would wait.
/
I need more MAAAB! *dry cough*
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