Long before King Arthur and his round table, before the Vikings, Normans, and Romans–even before they called this land ‘Wales’, there lived the Faeries and the Festia. The Faeries were jealous creatures–greedy, and powerful. The Festia were companions and servants to the Faeries–human, mortal, and afraid.
“Nim!” Koma called, fluttering up behind her.
Nim sat staring over the calm grey sea and the distant smudge of an island, blurred by the absent sun. She wondered if she might go there–if one could cross water and find more land. More mortals like the Festia.
“Nim!” Koma said again, his wings beating the air with frantic resistance. “Please, don’t keep Her waiting.”
Reluctantly, Nim stood and turned to her Wisp-Fae. The flattened wolf’s pelt around her shoulders gave two sets of eyes to the pleading look she levelled at him. If he wanted to, Koma could make her go. But he wasn’t like most other Faeries. He spoke to her kindly, like a friend.
Nim picked at the pelt. “Couldn’t we delay?”
“The Queen waits for no one. You know that,” Koma said, his wings slowing so he drooped in the air. “Please,” he pleaded.
Nim nodded and followed Koma through the humps of long grass. As a Wisp-Fae–the lowest of the Faerie order–Koma was no bigger than Nim’s fist. The Gora-Fae were larger–warriors–and closer to the length of her arm. The Queen, though: She would tower over Nim. Though she’d only seen the Queen at a distance, the Elders told tales of the Faerie Queen’s might, how she grew with anger and swelled with pride.
Nim wasn’t ready for the ceremony, but she’d been selected. Koma was right. You couldn’t refuse the Queen, even if you had only lived fourteen cycles. Not old enough to have loved. That’s what her mother said when the Queen’s Gora-Fae pointed out Nim from the crowd huddled around the firelight.
“The girl will be sacrificed to the Stone,” declared the Faerie.
The Festia had two days to prepare Nim for her sacrifice to the Queen. Two nights huddled around the fire, telling awed tales of how the Faeries gifted fire to the Festia.
The Faeries gave them everything, including the stone altar where Nim would be sacrificed. She shuddered thinking of it now as she followed behind Koma. Thick slabs of mossy stone laid over two boulders. Soon, she’d lay on that stone and stare up at the waning sky as a Gora-Fae put a bone knife to her throat.
The warmth of the Festia village flicked up ahead in the grey afternoon. Pale imitations of rain misted Nim’s face. She breathed in the earth.
“Nim.” Koma had stopped, dropping to the grass and folding back his wings as he inched toward her. “I must tell you something.”
Nim swallowed. “I know.”
“You–you do?”
“You think of me as a friend. I know, because you’re my friend, too. But it’s not allowed. That’s why the Queen chose me for death.”
Koma shook his head. “No. I mean–yes! You are my friend. I care about you. But, no, that’s not why her Faeries chose you, Nim.” He didn’t meet her concerned gaze. “A precious object has gone missing from the Queen’s repository and she suspects I’m the one who stole it.”
Nim blinked. “You? But, you’re a Wisp-Fae. How would you even…”
“She’s right,” Koma said. “I did steal it. Well, me and a few other Wisp-Fae who don’t like how we treat the Festia. It’s not right, making your people our slaves.”
“But–what did you steal?”
Koma glanced over both shoulders, though they stood in an empty field several yards from the edge of the village. Then he fluttered up so he and Nim sat at eye level. “It is a sword. A weapon. Big, long, and sharp,” he mimed an approximation at her confused expression. “We hid it with magic, but the Queen knows of our discontent with her order. She couldn’t prove what I’d done, so she’s sacrificing you to make a point.”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry, Nim.” Koma covered his eyes and sobbed. “I’m so sorry. It’s not fair. Not when you’re so young.”
Nim pulled back her shoulders, ignoring the thumping in her chest. “The Queen has decided. There’s no sense crying over it now. What does this sword thing do?”
Koma peeked out from behind his long fingers. “It’s the key to unlocking the Festia’s magic.”
“Festia’s don’t have magic. We’re mortal. Only the Faeries–”
“The Faeries stole it from the Festia, Nim. A hundred years ago. They sacrifice Festia on the Stones to keep your power. The only way to release it is to cut the Stone.”
“No weapon can cut through stone.”
“This one can,” Koma promised.
Shouts rang over the village. Koma and Nim turned at the noise. Koma rubbed his palms anxiously. “It’s time. They’ve come for you.”
Nim grabbed Koma’s arm between pincered fingers. He fluttered his wings to keep his balance. “Koma, you need to be the one to do it,” she hissed. She could see six Gora-Fae flying their way.
“What–? Nim, I can’t–”
“Please! I’d rather you be the last person I see than some Gora-Fae. I-I don’t want to die. Don’t let me do this on my own. Then help the Festia.”
“But the Queen will know I–”
“Koma, please. For my people. You said you wanted to help them.”
“I do. I do.” Koma trembled as Nim released him.
“Promise me, friend,” Nim said as the Gora-Fae shouted their approach.
“Festia girl! The Queen awaits you!”
“I promise,” Koma said as the six Faeries took Nim’s arms and hauled her away.
Breathe, Nim reminded herself. The stone was cold and hard on her back as the Gora-Fae tethered her wrists and ankles to stakes in the ground. Her skin rubbed against the rough ropes. She heard a gasp from the crowd–her mother’s gasp? She tried not to panic.
Torches flickered around the altar, though it was not yet sunset, their flames whipping in the breeze.
Someone clapped and silence fell over the gathered Faeries and Festia alike. “Gather round, all, and witness another sacrifice to the Queen! May she reign eternally.”
“May she reign for all time,” the audience responded in reverent tones.
Nim strained her neck to see, but she only caught the edge of the Queen’s scarlet dress as the tall figure walked past her to perch on her throne, wafting pine and lilacs over the hushed air. What magic could make cloth so crimson?
The Queen’s voice cut through Nim’s shivering. “We gather around the Stones so the Festia may share their blood with Faerie kind, as a reminder of the sacrifice the Faeries have made in caring for their lesser mortal companions.”
“We acknowledge and adore,” recited the Festia.
“Upon the request of our sacrifice’s companion, the Wisp-Fae Koma shall be the one to wield the dagger.”
Some surprised murmurs that quickly died down.
Nim tried to steady her breathing. She turned her neck until she’d pressed her cheek so hard into the stone her jaw ached. Koma flitted up to settle his feet on the edge of the altar. He glanced at her, gave her a look that said, I’m sorry, then turned back to his Queen.
“Stones, we give you the blood of our lesser servants that you may be appeased!”
Then, the chanting began–a deep thrumming that trembled through the surrounding earth. The Faeries’ wings flapped in succession as they began their rhythmic throat song.
“Begin!” The Queen clapped.
The thrumming grew.
Koma turned to Nim, his face tortured as another Wisp-Fae flew over and placed a bone knife in his outstretched hands. Koma nodded to his kin, a meaningful nod. Nim couldn’t see the other Faerie’s face as it flew back.
The bone knife was too big for Koma, but Nim could sense the magic as he held it aloft. He swallowed. Nim bit her lip. Nodded. Tried to ignore the tears tracking down the sides of her face.
Koma raised the bone knife above his head.
This is it. Nim could already taste the sting of blood in her throat, metallic and sweet. She balled her hands into fists, the rope pinching at her exposed flesh.
“Cleddyf!” Koma cried.
The knife flashed brilliant white.
Nim gasped. The crowd gasped.
“I love you, friend,” Koma said, and brought the massive silver dagger–no, he’d called it a sword–into her chest.
There was a surreal moment where Nim glanced down, saw it sticking out of her. Then pain. Cold.
Then darkness.
“Grab him!” the Queen screamed. “Grab the traitor!”
The Gora-Fae descended on Koma, wrestling him off the altar. But it was done. Koma sobbed, staring at the blood blooming from his friend’s chest, her glassy eyes staring at nothing, even as the Gora-Fae shoved him into the grass and wrenched back his arms and wings.
“The sword, you fools! Get the sword!”
The entire ceremony had erupted in chaos. The Queen’s voice pitched to a frantic shriek as her Gora-Fae flew up to the sword and tried to wrench it free. Faerie magic stung the air, hot and brittle, but the sword wouldn’t budge.
Exactly as he’d hoped. The sword had cut through the stone. Would magic return to the Festia, now? Would it leave the Faeries? He didn’t know. It’d been so many years since the spell that broke the Festia had arisen.
The Queen herself flew to the Stone, her red dress pulling back around her as she clasped the sword and pulled. It didn’t budge. The Queen screamed in Nim’s pale face.
The Gora-Faes’ grip on Koma loosened as their Queen let out a mournful bellow. Koma shifted, testing, then kicked out with both feet. He let out an explosion of raw energy. His captors burst back, stunned. Koma didn’t hesitate. He sprinted over the uneven grass, then launched himself into the grey sky, flapping as fast as he could, the screams, shouts, and murmurs fading behind him as he fled.
Koma didn’t let himself cry until he knew he was safely away.
Night descended like a crow on the field. Koma crept through the long grass, his wings tight to his back and his mouth pressed in a line to keep his sobs silent. The torchlights had long gone out, but through the gloom, Koma could still make out the outline of the stone altar, and the sword stuck in his friend.
The Queen wouldn’t have left the key to Faerie magic unguarded, he knew. Koma pricked out his long ears, listening. The silence told him more than any sound could. He drew up a finger and pointed it to his left. Focused. There! “Cwsg,” he whispered.
A thump. He turned to the next Gora-Fae, pointed, and put them to sleep. He did this three more times, one by one putting each Faerie guard to sleep. Then he scurried to the altar and flew up to perch on the edge.
Nim was white as the moon, her black hair splayed around her head and her lips parted with her dying breath. Koma touched her eyelids and drew them shut. “I’m so sorry, Nim. I’ll help your people. I promise.”
He looked at the sword. It ought to have done something, right? Koma didn’t know how the magic worked. All he knew was what he and the other ‘sympathisers’ had heard rumoured for years: the key is what drained the magic from the Festia and fed it to the Faeries. Stolen magic. That’s what sustained the Queen.
He’d told Nim he could do it. He’d told his friend the sword would cut the stone, and the magic would be released.
He’d lied, and now Nim lay dead.
Koma flitted up to the sword pommel and wrapped his small hands around the grip. He yanked up, gritting his teeth. He tried jiggling it this way and that. He groaned and dropped back onto the Stone, burying his face in his hands.
The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened.
Someone nearby was breathing.
Koma went cold as his friend. He poised his finger, ready to cast. The spell sat ready at the tip of his tongue. He turned.
Nim’s chest rose and fell–fractionally. Impossible!
“Nim?” Koma pattered over to her face and touched his small hands to her cheeks. A slight, warm blush. “Nim?” he shuddered, tears splashing anew.
Brown eyes flashed open, bright, alight–alive.
Nim gasped awake–and immediately regretted it. It felt like a full-grown adult had laid on her chest. Her vision sharpened in the darkness. “Koma?” she croaked.
“Nim! Nim! How are you–I thought you were–never mind!”
Tears leaked down each side of her cheeks where Koma held her. “Get me out.” The panic rose with her thundering heartbeat.
“Yes, yes!” Koma flew up to the sword skewering Nim in place and tugged on it. Nothing happened.
“Get me out!” Nim cried hoarsely.
“Nim, shush, please, you mustn’t scream,” Koma begged, fluttering back down to her.
But Nim couldn’t stand to be on this altar a second longer. She gripped the blade in her stiff fingers and wrenched it up, not caring whether she cut through her palms. She needed out–now!
The sword shifted. Nim gripped it tighter and wrenched it up, sitting as she pulled the blade free of stone, flesh, and bone. She threw it aside, clattering to the stone, her hands flying to her chest. The hole stitched neatly together, closing into pale, untouched flesh and leaving only a residue of dried blood behind.
“How did you…” Koma murmured.
Nim threw her legs over the altar and scrambled down, pulling her wolf cloak around her shoulders even though she didn’t feel cold. In fact, she felt hot–fiery.
“Nim, your feet!”
Nim scrambled back. Her bare toes glowed like hot coals, igniting the grass where she stood.
“Rhew.” Koma pointed, dousing the fire.
Nim met his horrified expression.
“It worked,” Koma breathed. “You have magic.”
Nim bent and picked up the fallen sword. It was heavy, but not too heavy for her to carry. She hefted it in one hand. “Let’s go save my people.”
Koma flapped after her as she sprinted across the lawn, silent but clearly heaving with questions.
“Queen of the Faeries!” Nim cried, bursting through the door. She’d never been so close to the Faerie Trees, much less stomping into one to declare war against their leader. But Nim had magic. And she’d already died once today. She didn’t plan on doing it again. “I’ve come to take back what belongs to the Festia!”
The Queen lounged in her warped willow throne surrounded by her fawning, smaller Faerie court. She stood at Nim’s intrusion, towering over everyone in the wooded room, her alien features more elongated and sharp than the Wisp-Fae or even the Gora-Fae. “You,” she hissed. Her eyes caught on the sword. The Queen raised her hand, her lips parting with a spell.
“Distawrwydd!” Nim countered. Silence!
The Queen’s voice left her. The other Faeries froze, watching in stunned horror.
“This key gives me the power to kill you, Queen,” Nim warned, glancing back at her friend, who hugged himself where he fluttered in midair. “It gives me the power to take magic from all Faeries.”
The Faeries murmured in fear, but still, no one moved.
“But I know that there are some Faeries who did not know how you siphoned the Festia, nor of your greed in making yourself strongest amongst them.” Knowledge, pure and tensile flooded Nim’s mind. She’d never been so certain of anything in her young life, even as she stood here, barefooted and small. “So I shall banish you, and your kin, to a place where you may keep your magic, but never harm the Festia again.”
The Queen’s eyes bulged. She clutched at her throat but still no words came out
“To save my friend, I tie you to this valley, and the lake herein,” Nim declared, circling the tip of the sword. “And I will stand guardian over your domain, between the worlds, to ensure you never escape, and the Festia live free of your bondage.”
The Queen’s face turned to fury. Her fingers sparked with magic, then her eyes glowed bright and crimson. “You’ll do no such thing, you little–”
“Alltudio,” Nim said with simple certainty.
There was a flash and a bang. Power flooded through each of her limbs. Nim gasped, the light leaving her through the sword. The key. She’d have to take it with her, to hold the gateway between their two worlds. She couldn’t give magic back to the Festia and keep the Faeries locked away.
The Festia didn’t remember their magic. They would be okay.
The Faeries, however–
Nim’s feet left the ground. The world swayed dizzyingly, then she felt the sword lighten and her vision went black.
Nim awoke but she didn’t breathe. At least, she didn’t breathe air. She opened her eyes. Everything shifted in an ethereal haze. She turned her head. The movement was slower than usual. She still held the sword in her hand, but it floated. She floated. She was in the lake.
Nim glanced up. Light, shifting and shimmering above. She kicked, keeping a firm grip on the sword as she swam to the surface. She burst into a bright morning and spun, wading. She could breathe air. She could breathe water.
Next to her, another figure sputtered up from the water, then sprung up into the air to fly next to her head.
“Koma,” Nim sighed, relieved.
Her friend grinned a sharp-toothed, ecstatic grin, splashing droplets as he threw out his arms. “You did it! You saved your people!”
“Thanks to you,” she beamed.
She paddled to the far shore, Koma flitting next to her, exclaiming about what had happened. “I never knew! What can this mean?”
Nim crawled up the rocky beach and threw herself down in the pebbled sand, stuck the sword in the ground in front of her, and stared over the glittering waters. Her hair dripped down her back.
Koma settled down beside her, his excitement waning. “Are you okay?”
Nim sniffed and turned to him, smiling. “I think so. I’m sad. I won’t see my family or friends again. But I’m happy, because now they’ll never have to send another loved one to the Stones.”
Koma nodded in understanding. “It is good, what you’ve done. They won’t forget your sacrifice.”
Nim’s smile turned sad. “They won’t remember me at all.”
“Perhaps not in their present memory. But your name will live on in their legends. You’ll see. The Festia don’t forget. Not really. Generations from now, when people look out at this lake, they’ll think of your name. Of the great and noble Nimue, the Lady of the Lake.”
Nimue put her arm around her small friend and glanced back at the glimmering sword. “Lady of the Lake,” she echoed. “I like it.”
END.