18. In The Hall of the Oaken King

Chapter 18

In The Hall of the Oaken King

" L adies and gentleman," a voice called from the blinding light.

Alice struggled to see who was calling out from the light, but she shielded her eyes from the blinding rays. She couldn't even make out Max, the Raskins, or Ez. Her broomstick, which was right next to her moments before, was gone—washed out in the brilliant light.

"Are we dead?" Oliver asked.

"Welcome to the land of plenty," the voice spoke again.

"Yeah, I think we're dead," Oliver added.

"You are not dead," the voice replied. "You are very much alive. More alive than you've ever been. You are fortunate to be in his presence. Welcome to the land of pleasure. The land of sustenance. The land of eternal summer. Welcome to Midsummer, the realm of the illustrious Oaken King."

Dark figures emerged as the light faded. Alice's eyes struggled to adjust, taking a moment for her new surroundings to come into view. She blinked a few times, trying to focus, but everything remained hazy.

A shadow drew closer to Alice. She took a step back, lowering her right arm, her fingers poised and ready to conjure a ball of purple arcane energy. Her left hand raised to her eyebrows to allow her eyes to adapt.

"Fear not," a deeper voice said. "For it is a great honor to be amongst the land of the fairies. We mean you no harm."

Alice relaxed her hand.

"You are our guests. Welcome," the voice said.

The world came into view. Standing before Alice was a tall, lanky, dark-skinned man with curly black hair. His face displayed a chiseled perfection with sharp cheekbones and a well-defined jawline. His eyes smoldered in a seductive glare, aided by a dark eyeliner. He wore illustrious, multicolored silk robes open enough to expose his bare chest. He was lean, yet muscular. Commanding, yet welcoming. Handsome and beautiful weren't enough to describe his overwhelming appearance.

"Who are you?" Alice asked.

"I've gone by many names in many languages. The great bard once referred to me as Puck. But you may call me the Oaken King," he responded. He held out his right hand, palm up, waiting for Alice to return the gesture.

Alice placed her hand into his awaiting palm. He bent down and kissed the back of her hand. Alice recoiled her hand—or at least, she attempted to. Her hand was held in place by the Oaken King. His gaze met her emerald green eyes. Her heart fluttered, stricken with such beauty. Her free hand shook. Her lips quivered. A drop of sweat rolled down her neck. She batted her eyes, attempting to break contact.

"You are a remarkable beauty. Full of joy and life. Yet . . . I sense a sadness in your eyes. They betray you. Tell me more," he said, still holding onto her hands.

Alice attempted to pull away. She wanted to, but she couldn't. She was entranced. Enthralled. Similar to her first meeting with Sylvia. Alice didn't know if he was ensnaring her in his presence or if his beauty had overwhelmed her natural desires. She wanted to let go. She had to let go, yet Alice was lost in his smoldering dark eyes.

"Breathe," he said. "Breathe with me. You're holding your breath."

He inhaled and Alice did the same.

"Good," he replied. "Now, tell me what troubles you."

Alice gulped. Images of Hugo coursed through her mind. Their entire history laid out in a series of moving images. The first time she met him in the backyard. The day she followed him into the woods. The Halloween night he visited her. The first time they made love and the last time. The fight with the vampires as they stormed his old house. His proposal. The wooden stake stabbing him in the back.

Alice's heart beat faster and faster, each beat more forceful until it was crashing against her rib cage. Sweat poured down her back. Tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to let go, but she couldn't. The images repeated over and over in her mind. She let out a scream.

"Let her go!" Ez yelled.

The Oaken King let go of her hand, and the fairy world came rushing back to reality.

"I'm awash with the enlightenment and clarity of the situation," he said as his fingers traced the contours of his chest and dripped to his side. He turned to a figure behind him. "The ash stick spoke the truth. She seeks our guidance and wisdom in her time of need."

Alice caught her breath, placing a hand over her heart. With each breath, her heart calmed. "What did you do to me?" Alice yelled, furling her eyebrows.

The Oaken King turned back around. "I needed to make certain you were who you said you were," he said in a soothing voice. "I granted you an audience because the stick said you saved it and its tree from an infestation. It told me of how you lost a loved one."

All eyes focused on Guinevere.

"The broomstick said those words?" Oliver asked.

"Yes. It informed me of all the troubles you've faced and how kind you are," the Oaken King answered. "I mean you no harm. Now please, enjoy our fruits. Drink our mana. Bathe yourselves in our waters. Fill yourselves with the nourishments of life."

He moved with the grace of a ballet dancer to a wooden throne and once again claimed his seat. A leg draped over the side of the chair. The robe pulled back, leaving nothing to the imagination. The throne was carved from a solid piece of oak. Intricate vines and leaves, crafted from a master craftsman, with every detail bored into the wood. He plucked a grape from an awaiting bowl next to him with one hand and drank from a gold cup in the other.

Alice's emerald eyes wandered around the oval throne room, having a moment to take in the surroundings. They weren't alone. Fairies of all sizes gathered in the throne room of the Oaken King. Some were taller than six feet; some were as small as six inches. All with pointed ears and high eyebrows.

The smaller ones fluttered around on pairs of wings. They chittered and chattered amongst themselves, laughing in glee. The room overflowed with alluring individuals, each one drawing Alice in with their beguiling charm. They competed for her attention, each one more enticing than the last. She was held captive by their beauty and grace.

Bowls of fruit and gold cups filled with reddish-purple wine littered the room. A waterfall poured down a rock wall into a pool at its base. Submerged in the water were bluish-green colored fairies with multicolored hair—water sprites. They were naked and splashing each other. They smiled and winked at Alice, beckoning her to join them in their aquatic activities.

Behind the throne, filigree carved columns opened the room to nature. Fields of grass carved with winding rivers and rich forests dotted the landscape. The sun shone. The sky was a mixture of shades of blue and white.

Heat filled the room. The Raskins unzipped their winter coats. Alice gave a quick thought of removing her tailcoat, but she held fast.

Max barked at all her new friends. Her eyes followed the smaller fairies and sprites fluttering too close for their inspection. She gave a series of barks, and they flew away.

"What an exquisite creature," the Oaken King said. "May she join us here at Midsummer?"

"No," Alice responded. "She's my dog."

"A pity. She loves it here. She's telling me so," the Oaken King replied.

"Your highness, we seek passage to the land of the dead," Ez said.

All chattering stopped.

The Oaken King snapped his attention to her. "We grant no such passage," he said in a low voice.

Alice approached him and held out the sprig of holly. "This is a gift from Santa Claus, the Winter King. An offering of peace."

The Oaken King took the sprig and examined it, rotating it in his fingers over and over. He handed it off to his consigliere standing next to his throne. The consigliere pocketed the sprig into a pocket of his silk clothing.

"You think a sprig offering of his plant is enough for me to grant you passage? There have been others before you—one in particular. She sought my passage. She sought to control me. So, I banished her to the very place she wished to go, never to return," he said.

Thunder crashed outside. The sky turned a shade of gray as rolling clouds moved in. Rain fell. The droplets bounced off the awning leading outside. The smell of petrichor rose from the ground, tantalizing Alice's senses.

"Come," the Oaken King said as he stood. "Join us in the rain. Nourish yourself in the life-giving waters. Celebrate life's renewal."

One by one, the fairies and sprites spilled outside. Their silk clothing shimmered in the drenching rain. They danced around and cheered, raising their hands into the sky as they allowed the rain to pour down on them.

"Please," Alice said as she approached the carved columns leading outside.

A carved vine encircled the pearly white marble columns. Expertly designed, no detail was too insignificant to be left out. The tiniest leaf veins were visible, almost as if the leaves and vines were dipped in liquid marble and fixated to the column. The work of master artists.

Alice pleaded, "We're seeking your help."

The Oaken King danced in circles, holding hands with the other fairies. "First, we dance and give thanks for the nourishment of life," he yelled back.

"The grapes and drinks are excellent," Oliver said.

Alice turned around to find the Raskins eating and drinking the offerings.

"Don't even think about asking him to sell this in the store," Carol said.

"No way," Oliver said in a hushed tone. He glanced over his shoulder and then leaned closer to Carol. "I think this oak tree is a few acorns short, if you know what I mean."

Max whined and pleaded for a piece of fruit. Her brown puppy dog eyes stared up at Oliver. He attempted to sneak her a piece of watermelon, but Alice's eyes caught him in the act. Max gulped it, and with her tail wagging, begged for more.

Alice turned back to the Oaken King's frivolity outside. "I seek passage to the land of the dead to rescue the man you saw in my mind," Alice yelled.

The Oaken King let go of the hands in the dancing circle and turned toward Alice. He rubbed his hand through his curled hair, now drenched, slicking it back on his head. Beads of water dripped down his muscular chest. He smiled, licking his lips. A smirk on his face.

"Why should I help you for this man? Are there not other men in the world to satiate your needs? Other women?" He raised his hands to the sky. "You could have your choice of them. You could have your choice of any of these."

The fairies stopped dancing around. They hung on each other, arms draped over shoulders. They smiled and smirked. They chatted amongst themselves. They sounded like high-pitched whispers in the wind.

Alice stood tall with her shoulders back and chest out. "I've had many boyfriends and girlfriends in my life, but I've only had one Hugo Dodds. He means more to me than anything you could offer. He's my supporter. My white knight. My fiancé. And most importantly, the love of my life."

She raised the black engagement ring for all to see its glistening purple stone.

The Oaken King stood there. Silent. The smile faded from his face. His eyes narrowed, and he scanned Alice from head to toe.

"You are not the first witch to stand before me, and you are not the last. What can you offer me? If I were to open the passage to the land of the dead, what do you have to offer me?"

"Love," Alice answered.

"You are offering to sleep with me? I thought you loved him," the Oaken King said.

The fairies laughed and giggled. They pointed at her, whispering into each other's ears.

Alice held her gaze on him as her hand dove into her black satchel.

"Alice . . . What are you doing?" Ez asked.

Alice ignored her. She pulled out a wooden box from her satchel.

"Alice, tell me the item in the box is something other than what I'm thinking?" Ez asked.

She still didn't acknowledge her. Alice opened the box and withdrew a scroll.

"I offer you the magick of love. Wars have been fought over this. People have died. It was my family's responsibility to be the caretakers of this spell for generations. We've guarded it. Protected it. I've used it," Alice said as she held out the scroll.

"Could it be, after all these years, the spell ?" the Oaken King asked as he moved closer.

Ez moved beside her. "Alice, don't do this. You're the guardian of the spell. If it falls into the wrong hands?—"

Alice glanced over to her with tears in her eyes. "If I have no one to make it with, then why should I guard it?"

Ez nodded. Tears glimmered in her eyes. Alice had never seen Ez cry before. She was usually stoic and levelheaded. She couldn't tell if Ez was disappointed in her actions or if the reality of the situation had dawned on her.

"Okay, kiddo," Ez said as she backed away. "I understand. Do what you must."

"Thank you," Alice said in a hushed voice. She turned back to the crowd.

The rain stopped. The clouds parted as quickly as they had arrived. The sun shone once more. A moderate temperature. Not too hot. Not too cold. The perfect weather with the perfect breeze. The Oaken King stood amongst the grass, fixated on the spell.

"Let me see it," he said as she approached.

Alice passed him the spell. He unrolled the ancient scroll, reading from the ancient text. He furled it back up and paused for a moment. His eyes fixated on the spell's parchment.

Alice gulped. Her neck tightened as she drew in a breath and held it.

"This is indeed the spell," the Oaken King said.

Alice exhaled. The crowd gasped and whispered behind him.

"I'm willing to give it to you for passage to the land of the dead. Specifically, the realm of the banished banshee," Alice demanded.

The Oaken King tapped the scroll in his hand. He let out a deep breath. After a moment, he snapped his fingers. The man who stood next to the throne rushed up next to him. The Oaken King handed the spell to his consigliere, who took the spell and scuttled away.

"We have an accord," the Oaken King said. "I will open the passage to the land of the dead."

Alice wiped away a tear she had held back. "Thank you."

"I must warn you, the passage to the land of the dead is fraught with peril. Only one of you may enter. You must offer the ferryman something in return for transportation down the river to the land you seek. The ferryman holds it ransom until your return. Most offer their souls," the Oaken King said.

Alice's lips quivered. She struggled to keep her head from trembling. She blinked a few times. Time stood still. She knew the price to return Hugo was high, and she was willing to pay it.

"A price I'm willing to pay," Alice said.

The Oaken King darkened his eyes, squinting at her. "I suggest you don't. You can never pay for your own soul to return. A soul of the dead must be paid for by a soul of the living," he said as he stepped closer to Alice. "You will be taken away in a box to your final resting place. The ferryman will never return to pick you up. You will be subject to the same torment as everyone else. You will be as good as dead."

His imposing form towered over her. Alice didn't take a step back. She stood tall, ready to meet his intimidating stance.

Alice gulped. "Okay, then what else can I offer?"

"Something special to you. Something unique. Some part of you. Maybe your eyes. Your heart. Perhaps . . . some other part of you."

Without her eyes, she would be lost. Without the ability to see, she would be as good as dead, unable to stop whatever horrors awaited her. No, she needed her sight.

If she offered up her heart, then would she muster the courage to find Hugo? Would she turn and run at the first opportunity? How many steps would she make it before calling the ferryman back to return her to the land of the living? No, her heart was too important for this mission. She needed it to carry her through.

If not my eyes or my heart, then what?

Alice raised her hands, her eyes focused on her fingertips. Something special. Something unique. A unique trait which defined who she was. Her fingers curled inward to make a fist. She slipped her hand into her coat pocket. She gulped.

"I can offer something," Alice said.

"Good. If you're lucky and accomplish what you set out to do, then you'll need gold for the return. Leprechaun gold," he said, taking a few steps back. "Once you pay the ferryman gold, then your offering and the soul you seek will return."

"Where are we going to get leprechaun gold?" Carol asked.

The Oaken King's consigliere returned carrying a burgundy wool felt pouch with gold string. The pouch jingled as he approached.

"You may have some as part of our arrangement. Two pieces per person. The ferryman's price to return from the land of the dead." The Oaken King opened the bag and presented it to Alice.

"And if I don't pay?" Alice asked.

"Then you will never get your offering back. Anyone who pays with their soul will turn to dust and ash," the Oaken King said.

She withdrew four pieces of gold and placed them in her coat pocket. Another hand reached into the bag, an older hand—Oliver's hand. He withdrew more pieces of gold.

"Take these," he said, stuffing them into Alice's coat pocket. "You don't want to be short."

"Then it is agreed upon," the Oaken King said. He walked off toward the tree line behind him. "Follow me."