A/N: Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! :) I'm glad you guys are enjoying this little fantasy I've spun! And now…
XXVIII
Christine clutched Erik's arm upon hearing his pronouncement. Of course, she knew his decision was the best course available at this time, neither of them knowing where to go in this foreign world, or exactly how to proceed, but that did nothing to alleviate her dismay to return to the hostile campsite.
He patted her hand on his arm in reassurance, as if sensing her discomfort. "We will follow," he said to the men. "Eustace, I will speak with you. One moment."
Christine looked sharply at her husband but waited to speak until he had pulled her aside near the fringe of trees.
"You remember him?" she asked, sotto voce, so the others could not hear.
"I heard the lad call him by name, but yes, fragments of time with them are known to me and some memories of their leader I still retain."
"The boy's name is Tobias," she inserted helpfully.
"Tobias, yes." He sensed she was troubled and gently cupped her cheek. "This is not forever. I have no right to ask this of you, not after all I have done, but have faith in me, Christine. I will explain my decision to rejoin the band upon our return."
She nodded her trust, having known all along their possibilities for making a living in this ancient epoch of time were scarce, but knowing too, that whatever he decided, he would always prioritize their safety. Before Raoul's appearance at the opera house, long before the tragedy of the Don Juan, Erik had given her guidance in many ways, also assuming the role of her protective angel. Even without the full knowledge of who he was, in his unwitting guise as Le Masque, he had protected her.
"Gather our things. We leave momentarily." He clasped her shoulders and kissed her brow, then left to join Eustace.
Christine watched her husband, his stance as tall and assured as always, and drew strength from his confidence when she felt she had none left to fall back upon. Quickly she returned to their tossed fur bed and pulled the top coverlet to straighten it and roll it in a compact bundle to tie it. She was surprised when Tobias joined her and did the same with the other fur.
She glanced at him with a grateful smile.
He nervously cleared his throat. "I am pleased to see you well recovered, milady...," he said as he rolled the fur. "...and owe you my apology that I was unable to prevent the ruffian from attacking you."
The memory of that traumatic night rushed over her. So much had happened in these short few days that she had blessedly, nearly forgotten. "Please, Tobias, cease in taking any blame. I chose the path to take that night. Indeed, had you not been there, matters would would have been far worse. You did all you could."
"I did, milady, I swear it," he said emphatically as if baring his soul. "Upon my life, I would never allow harm to come to you." His face reddened and quickly he turned his attention back to rolling and tying the fur with the ropes nearby. He glanced toward Erik and Eustace, then looked again at Christine. "I should tell you, some of the men in our band are not…pleased that our leader has, well…"
"Taken a wife?" she finished softly. The manner in which he looked askance, as if ashamed, made clear what he did not say. "It's alright." She reached across and laid a hand on his skinny arm. "I know my presence isn't exactly welcomed in your circle."
"Not all of us feel that way," he avowed. "I am pleased that you have come to stay and are one of us now."
The rouge flush reached the tips of his ears. Again he hurriedly looked to his task, knotting the rope with determined snaps.
x
The Phantom looked across the grassy expanse of woodland turf to where Tobias and Christine made preparations to leave.
"Tell me what has happened," he ordered the man, Eustace, never taking his eyes off his wife.
"It is bad," the Scot said, "verra bad. The black powder, we used it as you said, but there was an explosion too great. One of the men was kilt – two nearly so, including Marcel."
Erik struggled in his mind with the attempt to corral this information and make sense of it. "The black powder? You mean gunpowder?"
"I dinnae ken the name – you dinnae remember?" Eustace shook his head in gruff sympathy. "The black spells – they plagued you again? You have forgotten?"
"Yes, unfortunately so." Erik thankfully grasped the fact that this man seemed familiar with his burden, which would help to waylay any suspicion of his changed character. "I cannot recall much of the far past. The last spell obliterated a good deal of my memories." It had been the worst of what he suffered, Erik did know that, and he wondered if the extreme anguish was due to his identity resurfacing or if the thundering pain had jarred his true persona into making a return.
"Aye." Eustace nodded. "I thought as much. In Paris, we absconded with barrels of the black powder, in order to free Marcel from the de Chagny dungeons," he explained patiently. "The men blame you because you remained behind with the woman and were not there to lead them - but also in that you gave no warning of what would happen if they used too much or stood too close. Of course, how were you to know the damage that could occur? De Chagny's men staged the sale to enforce your capture, so you were not told what to expect. It is to their misfortune the men stood too close to the wall - the rocks exploded against them."
"I see." Erik watched Christine approach the cabin, his cloak wrapped tightly around her, in all likelihood to don her dress and gather the rest of their belongings. "Is there anything else I should know?"
Eustace shuffled his boots in agitation and glanced over his shoulder to where Erik stared. "I told them of your wedded state; I canna say they are well pleased."
Erik frowned darkly. As if he should care what opinion those men formed!
"There is unrest. Small factions have arisen. You must return and speak to them, my lord. I am hopeful it is not too late."
Enemies in the nineteenth century, enemies in this medieval century – he could seem to escape neither and momentarily reconsidered taking Christine into such a potentially volatile situation. Yet no matter what direction they chose, danger lay in wait from every side. He would prefer to confront the expected peril than to wander down an obscure path of unknown hazards.
At least then he could plan.
xXx
"You!" Lillith fumed, sparks flying from her violet eyes as she approached the shadowed bower. "You are the one responsible for this!"
Shailene barely looked up at Lillith's stormy entrance, never ceasing in her duty as she calmly poured the essence of restoration into a small cauldron of boiling ingredients. "I have no idea what you mean…" A cloud of purple mist shimmered and rose from the pot.
She felt her arm roughly grabbed and looked back in surprise at her errant sister.
"You interfered with my plans," Lillith spat. "You prevented them from taking the road where the Vicomte's soldiers were lying in wait. I know you did."
"Who are 'they'?" Shailene feigned ignorance, turning again to her task.
"You know who – that masked freak, Erik, and his momentary bride."
With her back to Lillith, Shailene rolled her eyes in weary disgust.
"How could I? Queen Viviane took away my powers. The little she recently returned to me could hardly match your supreme skills of magic," Shailene added calmly. "I have been assigned to manage the wood rot that's taken over the northern part of the forest; I've had time for little else." A mean task, one delegated only to those considered unworthy and in bad standing with their queen.
Lillith faltered but briefly. "You cannot expect me to believe that you have spent all your time meddling with fundamental magic." She sniffed in disdain, her own elevated skills beyond the need for mixing potions, as the youngest Fae were first taught, in caring for the forest.
Shailene sighed and turned to face her sister. "Believe what you will. Though perhaps instead of working to destroy the mortals, you should spend that time working to restore your relationship with our kind."
"You dare speak such words to me?!" Lillith raised her hand with a flourish, as if to cast a curse, and Shailene lifted her chin in challenge. Lillith clenched her teeth and lowered her hand back to her side. "It is because of you that our kind shun me!"
"Is it?" Shailene measured her with steady eyes. "Tell me then, why is it that they show me none of the animosity they extend toward you?"
Lillith flinched. "It is to their own stupidity they consider you a victim to be pitied – you were always treated with special favors. Our parents spoiled you from the time you were a tiny sprite."
"You may be right, Lillith, but ask yourself why they left our forest to find reprieve in another dimension."
Lillith's face reddened with her agitation. "It was not because of me or anything I did! They left due to their own selfish reasons."
"Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. We both know the lies you spread caused the rift between them and others." Shailene worked to keep her escalating anger under control. "Your own foolish jealousies have caused you nothing but shame and despair in your lifetime. You should cease in creating problems – look to your own affairs and stay out of mine."
"Yours?" Lillith asked incredulously.
"Bradon's family is my affair. While it's true I can do nothing to prevent or alter your spells, I can appeal to your better nature. And I do so, wholeheartedly." Her voice softened with warmth. "Sister, recall how we spent every hour together as children, learning the secrets of the forest? Creating the frost flowers in winter with our breath and painting a rainbow of hues to the wildflowers in spring? Running with the deer and flying with the hawks and the doves? We were close then - can we not have that again?"
For a moment, soft and fleeting, Lillith's expression gentled, but all too soon, the harsh lines returned near her mouth and between her brows. "Too much has gone behind us, Shailene, too much anger and sorrow. We are children no longer, and I will do what I must to regain the queen's favor. I have no choice. I should not be made to suffer for your mistake!"
Shailene's manner was grim. "If I should help you to find favor with the queen, would you vow to leave the de Chagny clan alone?"
"Help me? How can you help me?" Lillith's tinkling laugh was evil. "The queen doesn't trust you. You have no true powers, as you said, nor are you likely to regain them in full."
"I will give the matter some thought..."
"No." Lillith shook her head and interrupted before Shailene could finish her reply. "I am under orders from Queen Viviane and cannot fail her, or she will cast me from this forest and from this dimension…My plans must be carried out. I will kill the mortal Erik through his own foolishness and make the woman a widow, caught in that ancient epoch of time, the tenets of which will soon ensnare her to her own death. And should you or your halfling brat interfere, immortality will be seized from you by the queen. I shall take it upon myself to ensure that you be sent to another dimension, one too terrible to contemplate. I warn you, sister - stay out of my plans, or it will be to your destruction!"
She exited the clearing in a puff of glittering sapphire smoke, as if to emphasize the vast differences between them now. Shailene turned her back to the dissipating cloud.
She frowned to learn the fate that awaited Gregory's descendant and his new bride. She had assumed the glamour of an old crone to warn Christine at the well, but Lillith's wicked plans to ensnare the de Chagnys and destroy them spread out in all directions, like dry rot on the plentiful branches of a mighty tree, choking out what little good Shailene could accomplish with what slight magic she possessed.
Sadly, it wasn't enough to make a difference. Even paired with the few powers Bradon was granted - in that he was half mortal, half Fae - would not be enough to save dear Gregory's family from being wiped from existence if Lillith's plot succeeded. Other means must be employed, a dangerous feat to undertake, with how closely their regent watched the situation, but necessary.
"She seems more witch than Fae," a familiar voice broke the silence as a golden Adonis of a man walked from the thicket of trees where he'd been concealed. A perpetual shower of pink petals softly fell all around with the backdrop of a twilight-colored sky, a beauteous sight suggesting tranquility. But it was deceptive. "Tell me, Mother, what caused such a rift between those of our forest? Why is there such dissension?"
Shailene sighed wearily. "The struggle for power, as is often the case. Greed. Control. The witch that trapped me in her spell which led to my eventual capture envied Queen Viviane's powerful hold as a leader over all the forest creatures. But I have heard it goes further back than that. There has been animosity between the covens, as long as there have been witches and Fae. Much like the discord that has sprung between me and my sister, though I hope it doesn't reach those extremes."
He settled a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Why is it that Lillith despises us so much? You never told me that either."
Indeed, she withheld much from Bradon, not wishing him to feel harshly toward the man who sired him or toward any mortal. Yet she could not shield him from the truth forever. And certainly he had heard Viviane's warped version of their story, though even then, their exalted regent would not have said much. It had been forbidden to speak of it at all, though that did not prevent whispers from the curious and those eager to stir trouble.
"Lillith will not listen to reason and blames me for things that happened when we were young. In her mind she has built lies up into titanic proportions. I once thought there might be hope for us, but no more…" She sighed with the loss. "Now, all that is important, all that I must focus upon, is you and your family. No matter his faults, I loved your father. I assume from others you have heard whispers here and there of what happened to me when I was imprisoned in his tower..." At his abrupt nod, she steadfastly continued, "He should not have done what he did - tricking and holding me captive - it is true. He acted in enmity, a curious selfishness, but came to love me, and I him. If nothing else, Bradon, know that you came from love."
If Queen Viviane were to hear her speak of such forbidden things, Shailene would suffer punishment. Her desperate pleas to stay with Gregory had angered the queen, who only mellowed when other Fae, those close to Shailene, had spoken on her behalf, convincing their ruler that she was still under the witch's spell. But Shailene knew the truth in her heart. The spell had been responsible for tricking her into captivity, yes, and love had not been immediate. At first, there had been only hatred.
But it had been no spell.
And every day she ached with his absence.
She could not let the young woman, Christine, suffer a similar fate.
Bradon looked pensively toward the stream that flickered with silver lights created with beams of the morning sun. "I will help in whatever way I can, Mother," he said at last. "Only give the word."
His desire to lend aid soothed the furrow her sister had rent in her heart. "You realize, my son, that to help me could cause excessive trouble for you. My sister has become very strong as a Fae, a strength I no longer possess. Should Queen Viviane learn of our interference to disrupt her plans, your privileged life with her would end. You could lose what little powers you have as a halfling. You could be outcast from the Tuatha Dé Danaan for eternity. Nae, you would be. Your life would end."
"I know this, Mother," he said gravely. "But what kind of man would I be, the half of me that is mortal, if I allowed such destruction to the entirety of my kin?"
It was the answer she expected him to give, no matter how dismayed she was to hear it. If Queen Viviane was to get wind of their ploy, Bradon would be outcast to live life as a mortal and die as one. Forever separated from Shailene, unless she relinquished her powers and did the same. That is, if she was allowed a choice. It would be just like their vindictive regent to separate Shailene from her son and force her to continue life as a lesser Fae as punishment, just as she had separated her from Gregory.
Shailene shuddered at either thought, both of them terrifying. To lose Bradon for all eternity, her only child and most precious to her heart, or to lose her life as one of the Fae, all she had known since she first emerged into Brocéliande eons ago - which meant also to lose her immortality. Either option caused her no little grief. Either way she would lose something dear. Queen Viviane would not grant mercy or give her a second chance, not this time...
Yet even in that somber knowledge, Shailene told Bradon of her plan.
xXx