SMOKE AND ASHES
Gold befriends a young orphan lad, who clearly reminds him of himself. In his attempt to return the child to his own world, they are accosted by thugs. Gold disarms the two men and discovers that they have been sent as assassins by Morgana, a petty sorceress in Gold's estimation. He allows them to leave but with a warning to Morgana to leave the child alone. The child reveals that he has been told by the Lady of the Lake that he is to be a king one day. Gold sends the child through a peculiar portal that seems to link not only place to place but time to time. These actions - going out of his way to help someone when it would be of no benefit to himself and not killing when he had motive and opportunity – constitute Gold passing the first test that the Fae have devised for him.
Gold retraces his steps but is overcome by a fierce magical snow storm that dulls his magic. He is in danger of freezing.
Meanwhile back in Asheville, little Elspeth is missing her father very much and Emma elects to have the child sleep with her for the night. Also, Maurice (who is wandering the city) is unknowingly sensitive to the subtle, magical forces that are present in the city. He finds and enters the gate that will take him into Fairyland.
Belle awakens in the royal palace and, in attempting to escape, she encounters a woman she recognizes as Miranda, her mother. The older woman is pleasant and forthcoming; she shares that her kind is unable to live in the natural world for very long and, despite her feelings for Belle's father and for her infant daughter, she was forced to return to Fairyland. She shares that she did not contact Belle earlier, fearing rejection for the abandonment. She recognizes Belle's unique and powerful talent and remarks that she can tell that Belle is obviously in love with someone.
Chapter 38
The Second Test
+ + + + Maurice has an Encounter
Maurice was no fool. He knew the history of his country, his people, how they had fled from all over Europe, from all over the world to the secluded kingdom of Avonleigh. The people that populated Avonleigh were not just different in their beliefs but different in what they were. Avonleigh was a sanctuary, a place that all those who were truly different were safe, all those who were different were welcomed.
He knew the old stories of how certain individuals would from time to time display remarkable, almost magical talents. But nothing like these talents had been seen in centuries. He knew the other worlds existed, but the gateways had been closed – the human race and the others, those who were children of Light Magic and those who held allegiance to the Dark had long been separated.
But he had begun to wonder if the walls between the worlds were thinning. He had begun to wonder if Talent was re-emerging.
There had been his daughter's mysterious 'mental illness' so refractory to medication and other treatments. With Belle's departure, he had begun to wonder what was really wrong with her, indeed if anything was wrong or if she was perhaps truly different.
He had begun to wonder about his own self. There were times that he felt, really felt the concerns of others washing into him. It was always dizzy and disorienting. So often he wished his wife Miranda was still alive. She always seemed so sensitive to these types of issues. Maybe she would have had a theory, an explanation.
Her death was still an open wound to him. They had never found a body after she had been washed overboard on that terrible, horrible day that left him a widower with an infant. He had never remarried despite being encouraged to, despite offers. No woman had ever, could ever compare to Miranda.
He still loved her.
At the moment, walking along the path through the trees, in what he knew should be downtown Asheville, he found himself in an impossible situation and realized that he was either having a massive extraordinarily real hallucination or he was actually in another dimension. He was realistic enough to accept that either situation could be possible. He continued up the path, walking.
Somehow he knew Belle had gone this way.
He soon encountered a small charming white-washed cottage and as he neared the neat fence that surrounded the front yard, he was greeted by an awkward, but pleasantly attractive young woman who was kneeling working in the flower beds.
"Traveling through?" she asked him looking up from her work.
"Well, uhm . . . I'm actually looking for a young woman. Pretty girl with brown hair and blue eyes."
A short, bald disgruntled man had come up behind the young woman. He regarded Maurice suspiciously. "Who wants to know?" he asked Maurice gruffly.
"I'm her father. I've been looking for her for a long time," Maurice explained.
The gruff man was about to speak, but the young woman stood up and intervened. "You poor thing. Why don't you come in, spend the night – it's going to get cold – and tomorrow we can help you on your way," she gave the bald man a stern look which lasted for about half a second and then she smiled at him. She turned her smile on Maurice.
"Well, I don't want to put anyone out. I could pay you for your trouble," Maurice said.
"We're happy to help," the young woman said, removing her gardening gloves. "Come in and share supper with us." And she led Maurice inside the little cottage. "I'm Nova and this is Leroy," she introduced herself and the man, holding out her hand to Maurice.
"I'm Maurice. My friends call me Moe." And he shook her hand.
+ + + + + A Sending
It was late in the night when Maurice heard a sound. The young woman was up and sitting in front of the fire. She had wrapped a blanket around herself and sitting, shivering.
Maurice checked on her. "Miss Nova, are you all right?"
She shook her head, "He's cold, very cold. Freezing almost to the death. I have to help him. Send him energy. Send him heat," she spoke the words to no one. She sat rocking herself and chanting, "Cold, cold, go away cold, cold, cold, go away cold."
Leroy came in, "Nova? What's going on?"
"I heard a noise. When I came in, she was like this," Maurice explained.
Leroy listened for a while. "She's working a spell. We shouldn't disturb her. I'm going to sit here and watch over her," he said to Maurice. "Maybe get her another blanket," and he disappeared for a moment and came out with a homemade quilt.
"I'll sit with you," Maurice said, feeling something more was going on here than he could begin to understand.
"I think I'll make us some coffee. It looks like we may be here for a while," Leroy said.
+ + + + + Another Sending
Elspeth had awakened screaming. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
Emma jolted awake and reached for her gun. Then she remembered she had an inquisitive three year old spending the night and she had locked her gun up. It took her a scant moment before she regained her whereabouts and sat up to cuddle with Elspeth. "Honey, Elspeth, what's wrong?"
Elspeth's eyes were wide with terror, "Daddy's cold!" she told Emma.
Emma put her arms around the child. "Goodness, you're shivering, honey. I think maybe you just had a bad dream," she tried to comfort the child. She wondered if this was a night terror of some sort.
"No, no. Daddy's cold," Elspeth insisted, "He need help!"
Emma considered. She could feel Elspeth's chaotic thoughts. There were flashes of Gold in his green imp form huddled over and shivering in a field of white static. It took Emma a moment to realize that the static was a blizzard of snowflakes.
"All right," she thought it likely that Elspeth was having some sort of vision, real or not. She faced the child and took the little hands into hers. "Elspeth, Elspeth, look at me. We're going to help Daddy."
Elspeth looked at her, tears streaming down her face, the bright blue of her eyes obscured by the dilation of her pupils. "Help Daddy?"
"Yes, darling. You have to get calm first. Breath with me," and Emma helped the child relax, telling her "in" and "out" as she slowed the child's breathing. "Now sweetheart. We think warm thoughts, all about being cozy and safe and happy. Can you do that?"
Elspeth screwed up her face. "I don't know," she said.
"Oh, I'm sure you can. I'll help," and Emma calmed herself and began to picture fireplaces with toasty flames, hot chocolate and warm baths, images that she sent to the child.
"Oh," Elspeth said suddenly. "I get it." And the child closed her eyes and began to think similar thoughts, her teddy bear warm from being held in her arms most of the night, lying comfortably in Unca Jeff's arms, the feeling she would have inside when she knew her daddy was proud of her behavior.
Emma realized that Elspeth had expanded on the idea of "warmth" and included pleasant feelings. She shrugged. If that worked. She wasn't sure if there was a real crisis or not, but Elspeth did seem to be calming down.
Emma realized that the panic that had gripped her was diminishing also. The more she thought warm thoughts . . .
+ + + + Far Away Under the Earth
They had been loyal to the Old Master. He valued them and their capabilities.
The New Master was very powerful but He did not value them. He used them as errand boys. He had misjudged them. This was their chance. They knew he was being tested by the Fae and he was in a weakened position.
They thought their best chance was to take The House. From there they could challenge him.
They had heard of the Mowrath, the Cat Guardian, but they had a plan to take care of it. They knew the Swan Princess, the Dark Princess and the Mad Prince were formidable opponents but they had studied their enemies and they had a plan. They were not mindless rabble. They were strong. They were intelligent.
They would take the small child. Yes, they would take the child.
They would begin to move. Now.
+ + + + + Gold Makes a Deal
The cold had become unbearable. Gold was concerned that he could very well freeze to death (well perhaps not to death – cold was not one of the things that could kill him). But cold could throw him into a coma-like state, render him vulnerable to his enemies. He huddled in his dismal little shelter and was concerned that things were rapidly going from worst to intolerable without a fire. But he wasn't able to get anything resembling a fire going – damn wet fairy magic, so strong, too strong working against him.
They were trying to kill him, he thought. Freeze him into that coma state. It would look like an act of nature, absolving them of responsibility.
He forced himself to stay awake. He sat cross-legged, wrapped in the blankets. He rocked himself. He needed to stay awake, stay alert. If he fell asleep under these conditions, hyperthermia would set in and he would like as not wake up (or wake up in a cell). He began thinking over the things that were important to him.
Before, it would have been him preserving his knowledge and his powers. But now, now Belle's lovely face came to mind. Her sweet nature, her generous responsiveness and her genuine concern for him. And even little Elspeth. The Lady Shivat had trusted him, for reasons he would never fathom, to take care of her in her vulnerable form. And there was also Emma and Jefferson and Regina. And Leroy and Nova. He still wanted to protect himself, but now he also wanted to protect these people.
He needed to survive to protect these people.
But how could he protect them when he couldn't take care of himself?
It was not good. He needed fairy magic if he were going to stay alive. What was that little sprite's name? She'd said she was Queen of the Sprites. Maybe . . . ?
"Little queen sprite!" he called out. "Little sprite queen. Rumplestiltskin would like to make a deal with you."
There wasn't any immediate answer and part of him scoffed at the idea that, number one, she could even hear his call over the distance and through the wind and, number two, that she would answer it.
His teeth were chattering. His eyes closed and he curled up into a tiny ball.
He only just heard it. Like a tiny tinkling bell in his ear.
He turned his head and opened one eye.
The fairy sprite was standing with her hands on her hips. She was dressed head to toe in a sparkling white outfit trimmed with something that looked like fur. She wore a silver crown and looked every inch a queen. "Well?" she said, sounding a bit put out.
"Your majesty," he struggled upright. "Thank you, thank you so much for coming."
The little sprite made a face at him, "Oh come on. How often does the Dark One ask to make a deal with someone else? Whacha got in mind?"
He hesitated. He hadn't really expected her to come. "My magic has gone numb," he confessed.
"What did you expect?" she asked him in her high pitched tones. "You're near the heart of fairyland, on one of their most sacred mountains."
"I didn't think I'd be here that long," he told her. "I certainly wasn't prepared for this off-season blizzard."
"I didn't start it," the little fairy told him defensively.
"I know that, my dear," he managed to reassure her.
"I can't make it stop," she told him.
"I don't need that. I just need some help in getting a fire going."
Now the fairy stepped back from him, her face showing her disbelief. "Really?!" She looked at him long and hard. "But you are a fire master."
"Yeah, but right now I'm surrounded by very powerful water magic, light water magic, fairy water magic. There is so much of it. My powers are for destruction and they are completely dampened out here. I need your help." And he added to his entreaty, "Please."
"A deal, you said," the little fairy queen was obviously considering his offer.
"Yes, your majesty. I need a fire that will keep me alive through the morning. What do you want from me?" he asked.
The little fairy thought about it a moment.
Gold had never thought the sprites were particularly intelligent life forms. They were very pretty and very vain. They were also petty and acquisitive but had never impressed him as intelligent. He was expecting to hear that she would want some sparkly, shining thing. Perhaps a jewel or a flower that would never fade. He was surprised at her request.
"I want, if the time comes that you can grant it, I want freedom for my people. I want a place my people and I can live without having to worry about big people coming in. No people, no big fairies, nothing unless we invite them in."
Gold struggled to understand what she asking. He was getting sleepy and knew he was starting to freeze. "You want a place for your people that no one else can come into?"
"But a pretty place, a nice place," she amended.
Of course.
He knew he might be cutting his own throat, "I don't have that power, sprite. I have no . . . jurisdiction in this place."
"Ah," the little fairy danced around. "But if the time comes and you do, you would grant us this?"
"Sure, what the hell." This was one deal that he would never have to see through.
The little fairy smiled. "It is a deal then?"
"Yeah." Things were getting dark and he slumped down. "It's a deal," he managed to get out and things went dark.
+ + + + + Morning
Gold slowly regained his senses. He was lying curled into a ball inside a small enclosure. There was a thin light. He recognized it as the crude shelter he had built and realized that a layer of snow lay on top of the little structure he'd thrown together. He was able to move his fingers and flex his toes and could feel them moving without any tingling. He had vague memories of warmth washing over him several times during the night. That last time it was pulsating and strong and it had a most distinct feel. He believed it was Belle, his lovely Belle. She was awake and somehow she had touched him and sent him warmth, deep revitalizing warmth, a bone-soothing warmth. He had relaxed and been able to get sleep, healing sleep.
He eased himself up. He noticed a single glowing rock that put out heat. Not too hot to touch, but pulsing out with waves of warmth. This was the sprite's 'fire.' He peeked out of the small opening he'd left himself. The snow had stopped and there was, by his glancing estimate, about eight inches of soft powder all around him. His throat was parched and his body ached. He reached and collected some of the snow into his water bottle and brought it inside the cramped shelter holding it over the glowing rock to melt the snow.
He then noticed that sitting on a different rock was a collection of roots, seeds, dried fruit and some nuts. He had to smile. The little sprite queen had left him some breakfast. He drank his snow water, refilling the bottle and began to eat the squirrel food the little fairy had left him.
That was a nice touch. He'd remember this last generous gesture. What was it she had asked him for? Freedom, a safe haven for her people? Why would she think that he would ever be in a position to grant this?
Well, there was no accounting for sprite fancies. He considered his next move. He wanted, needed, to get out of this place and into the city. His best estimate was that he had about a half day's walk.
He finished his breakfast, continuously packing snow into his water bottle, heating it over the glowing stone and drinking the resulting water.
The sun was up, mid-morning, and he was up and off.
+ + + + + Belle and Miranda
Belle found herself blushing. "I am in love." She stopped a moment. "Do I call you Mother or Miranda?"
The older woman looked away, "I don't know that I have done anything that would give me the right to be called 'mother.' I abandoned you as an infant. During those years you were struggling with your talents, I wasn't there to help. I wasn't even there to teach you how to put on lipstick." She turned back to Belle, "If the time ever comes that you feel I am being a mother for you, then, then you can call me 'mother.' Otherwise, 'Miranda' is just fine."
Belle took the older woman's hand. "There's more to this than you just flitting away I think, more than you were afraid you would fade away if you stayed or that I would reject you if you came back."
Miranda looked at her, long and hard. "Your talent is truly remarkable. You are exactly right and I will tell you everything and soon. We haven't much time." She looked around. "But first, you were telling me about your young man."
"Well, Miranda," she said experimentally. "He's not exactly a 'young man.'"
"Not young or not a man?" Miranda asked.
"Yes," Belle answered. "Please understand. I wasn't looking for any one and I really don't think he was either. If anything, he seemed surprised that anyone could care about him. It just happened. For me he's been the most wonderful man. Brilliant, kind, complex," Belle struggled to describe Gold. "He has this dark past which he struggles against every day, perhaps every moment."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know. We were together and then everything went black for me and I woke up here."
Miranda's face was troubled. "I knew when you had come into Fairyland and I sent my people to bring you here. I didn't know there was anyone else with you."
Belle hesitated. "He has a bit of a history with the Fae," she hedged.
"Oh?" Miranda had sat down on one of the benches in a secluded part of the garden.
"He hasn't told me much but I think that he may have been a prisoner of the Fae. He was given the Asheville area and this remarkable house to watch over as part of some agreement with them."
"Oh yes. Rumplestiltskin. I believe he goes by the name of Mr. Gold there," Miranda said looking away.
"Yes, that's right. Can you tell me what happened? Do you know what happened between him and the Fae?"
"I do, my child. I do," Miranda was troubled. "And you may not want to stay once I tell you what we did. It is hard to explain. Hard for an outsider, and it pains me to look at you as an outsider, but hard for someone not part of our people to understand."
Belle had remained standing. "Try, won't you please try."
Miranda's eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I guess if anyone could understand, it would be you." She took a deep breath, "There was a prophecy from a very long time ago. It is part of a series of prophecies that have been remarkably accurate." Miranda stood. "A long time ago there was a curse cast that took away all magic for a hundred human generations. So many of us died as a result of that curse. Creatures that were made of magic, such as unicorns and griffins, were destroyed forever. My people, my kind, we . . . diminished. Only now are we regaining our strength."
"I know this," Belle told her.
"Do you also know that with the return of magic, it was foretold that a great, great power would arise. A dark, consuming, nightmare power?"
Belle shook her head.
"We were terrified. We knew this force would consume us, control us, perhaps even destroy us. This force would plunge the world, not just our world here but the worlds below into darkness, savagery, death and violence."
Belle began to realize something, "You thought that Gold was this force?"
Miranda looked at her, "Yes, yes, we did." She wiped her face with a handkerchief. "We did and we do. We were frantic. We consulted our books, our legends, even venturing so far as to consult The Seer, a frightful, ancient force unaffected by magic or power from any world."
Belle walked up to her mother, digesting this. "And what did you decide?"
"We . . . we . . . we did something we were most uncomfortable with. Belle, we tested your Mr. Gold. He wasn't Mr. Gold then. He was more savage, more brutish, more like a beast than a human, with strong homicidal proclivities. We tried to find out just how powerful he was. We tried to find his weaknesses, understand his strengths. He was young and not in full control of himself or I think he would have just destroyed us then and there. We learned quickly that we would never be able to kill him. We perhaps could weaken him, place him in stasis at best, but sooner or later he would rise again." Miranda closed her eyes. "And he would destroy us . . . without mercy, without compassion . . . without hesitation."
"So you just let him go?"
"Not exactly. We knew he was about to break the bonds we put on him so, but before he could do this, we made an agreement, a deal, with him. We would set him free if he would serve us."
"So he never knew that he was about to overcome you."
"No, he never knew," Miranda agreed.
"And you kept him in servitude," Belle said, her eyes sparking.
Miranda dropped her eyes. "We were desperate, Belle. I don't know if you can possibly understand. We were desperate."
"Didn't you worry that he would some day, some how discover he had been tricked. That he was let go because he was about to break free. That he would come back for revenge."
Miranda looked her daughter in the eye. "Every moment, Isabelle. Every moment. We had to find another way to contain, to control this all-powerful malevolent force."
"So what did you do?" Belle was not comfortable with what she was hearing. She knew that Gold thought of the Fae as manipulative bitches and what she was hearing was confirming this, well, maybe not so much the bitches part. They were manipulative, but her empathy confirmed that they genuinely thought they were in mortal danger from Gold. But Gold was seen as very different from how she saw him. Here he was considered a monster, a devil.
"What did you do, Miranda?" Belle asked again.
+ + + + + Maurice Sets Out
Maurice had sat up nearly all night near the little Fae and the man who seemed bonded to her. He had dozed off to sleep at some point, jerking awake as the sun came streaming through the windows. Nova seemed quite recovered. She assured both men that she was just fine and thanked them for their concern.
Nova set about providing him food and a variety of simple gear. She set him on a path and he bid Nova and Leroy goodbye. As he set out, he realized that he felt good, very good at the moment. Gone were many of the aches and pains associated with his age. His energy was up. His mood was up.
He kept to a rapid walking pace as he made his way up the rock face of the mountain and down through valleys and trees. He went by the valley of the dreamflowers, unaffected by their sweet, cloying scent. He didn't stop for a lunch; he just reached into his satchel of goodies that Nova had packed him and ate now and again as he made his way along the river bed.
It was early evening when he began climbing the last hill to be gone over before the city, the same hill where Gold had just spent a freezing night. The snow from the blizzard that had flailed the area the night before had all melted away and there was no longer any evidence that it had ever existed. Maurice found the little shelter that Gold had built with a blanket over a log propped up on a stump. The shelter was covered with pine straw and small branches. There was no fire pit but Maurice was well able to remedy that situation. He gathered some wood and elected to spend the night in the ready-made shelter.
+ + + + Gold Enters the Palace
Gold had been strangely invigorated by the 'breakfast' the little sprite queen had left him. He made good time passing by an increasing number of little houses, then an increasing number of bigger houses. The streets became straighter. He knew where he was heading to. It was the center of town, and as he walked up and down the hilly streets, he realized that the Queen's palace was in the exact same spot as The House in Asheville. He was getting hungry after his excursions, but he didn't trust Fae food. Not often anyway. Certainly not from a Fae he didn't know.
He stopped outside of the palace wall, cold, tired, thirsty and hungry. He could feel Belle's presence inside. She didn't seem to be in distress. He was pretty sure he would feel it if she was.
But, now, how to get in?
He certainly didn't want to be taken prisoner again. But, he thought, he knew a lot more now than he did when he was first taken prisoner. Then he'd been a raw clot of power, no order, no organization, just oozing with destructive energies. Now he was capable of focusing his talents. He could emit a fine line of energy, like a knife blade, or send out energy like a wave.
He conjured a small fire ball with some sense of relief. Away from the dampening water magic, his fire talent was resurging. No, not with the depth he had in the natural world, but more . . . enough.
He was prepared to burn this place to the ground to get his Belle back, whether he got the dagger piece and the scroll or not.
He walked around the palace grounds. Silver was imbued into the gates and the walls around the place. He could blast his way in, but it would likely sound alarms and were he to bully his way through a silver infused shield it would certainly hurt like hell. Maybe there was another way, maybe the Fae had gotten careless. He came to the front gates which stood wide open. Many of the Fae were walking in and out of the palace grounds.
He abruptly realized that getting in was the easy part. This was not a suspicious society. He could simply walk in with any number of visitors.
Well, perhaps, he did need a bit of a disguise. He thought it likely he might be recognized and would almost assuredly be, well . . . to say he might be unwelcome seemed like an understatement. He backtracked to a vendor of robes and bought a simple homespun one with a hood. It was plain and rough and reminded him of something he might have spun and woven for himself many years ago. He covered up and went back to the gates. As he walked though he was still concerned that alarms might go off that he would be recognized and the Fae would fall on him, subdue him with silver and drag him off.
But nothing happened.
He looked around furtively. He needed to find Belle, then perhaps look for the scroll and dagger. Perhaps.
He closed his eyes and sensed Belle's presence. She was in the main building or . . . perhaps behind the building. He walked quickly, keeping to the edges of the property around the building and encountered the gardens.
The bloody thing had been laid out like a maze. He swore and put his hand on one of the outer walls and began to trace his way in. He had been walking about twenty minutes, in and out, around and about and was feeling most out of sorts when he came out into the center of the maze.
There sitting at a table was Ruel and his Belle. They both rose when he came into view. He strode towards them prepared for battle, whatever he needed to do to rescue Belle from the clutches of the fairy queen.
"Gold, darling," Belle greeted him. She walked part way to him and then stopped. "This is going to be difficult," she began without additional preamble. "My darling, I need to stay here. I can't go back with you. I'm sorry. This is where I belong. I can't be with you. I'm so, so sorry."
Thanks so much to those readers who found the time to send me a review during this - oh so busy - time of the year (and hoping everyone reading this early January, 2015, is having a happy,healthy new year) : Cynicsquest, Robin4, Grace5231973, orthankg1, RaFire, Chauchi, Erik'sTrueAngel, jamie. wan. kanobi, MyraValhallah, jewel415, deweymay, OUATWhoLock, thedoctorsgirl42, CharlotteAshmore, crazykat77 and Anne Andrews (Guest). thx -twyla
NEXT: Gold faces the Third Test
Miranda makes a startling offer
More with Maurice (and what exactly is happening at The House)