It had not been a good night. Dame Bridgit Steadheart, Mistress of Bards of the Seelie Seasons, Captain of the Guard of the Court of the Yellow Crescent, said a bad word and kicked at some twisted bit of metal as she walked along the side of the road. Wallow and the rest had been poking fun of her all night because they said she was Unseelie, which she wasn’t – she was just in a bad mood – and quite frankly, she was goddamn sick and tired of the whole deal.
It seemed as though the Baroness’s entire court was just a bunch of Unseelie young punks with no respect for their betters or their nobles. Even members of her own guard had refused to obey her orders and had embarrassed them all in front of Cerdiwyn and a messenger from House Ailil. No, they weren’t to blame, she reminded herself, she was. If she’d been a better leader and tried harder, everything would fall into place. Well, that’d been the theory anyway.
Bridgit had figured that Samhain was like the mortal festival of Halloween, a time when ghosts haunt. If commoners didn’t return to Arcadia like the Sidhe did when they died in the Autumn World, then it might be possible that they didn’t reincarnate right away. If that were so, she thought, wouldn’t it possible that one could summon them like a mortal or chimera? All that she’d asked Ellette, who’d looked at her blankly and just shrugged, which left Bridgit feeling like a real idiot. In fact, now that she considered it, most of the fae of Sylvania that she considered her friends seemed to really just pay her lip-service. Phaeden, Ellette, Cerdiwyn, Wallow, all of them just kind of humored her.
Normally, she would have shoved away such fatalistic thoughts, but tonight, for some reason, Bridgit was just unable to muster the strength. So after talking to Ellette, she’d decided to get help from Tambiri, who she figured was good at finding things. The troll had gotten it into her head to summon the ghost of her master, Olar Daan, to ask him how she could be a better leader to her guard. That had only ended in failure, because not only did Tambiri have no grasp on what Bridgit wanted to do, she eventually vanished with the other pooka on missions unknown and was no help whatsoever.
That’s about when some goblin calling himself King Artemis showed up. Everyone kept saying he was a horrible guy, but when Bridgit asked Phaeden if he wanted the King thrown out, he’d said no, that anyone was welcome. So of course, the young rabble of the court had decided to kill him or something, and no one had told her there was a court meeting going on so the Baroness was angry with her too. So when an explosion had come from upstairs and she’d run up there to find Boom Boom confronting an annoyed goblin king, Bridgit’s first thought had been protecting her people. However, it seemed that they’d already come up with other plans they hadn’t felt fit to tell her.
The long and short of it was, the goblin king ended up asking her to go to Burger King and pick up some food for him, and for some reason, she went without a second thought. And there she was, walking down the street with her hands jammed angrily in her pockets on her way to Bruger King.
At least the anger was preferable to the despair. Bridgit had meant every word of what she accidentally slipped to Phaeden; Sylvania just didn’t need her anymore. Duchess Elenora was gone and though the new Duke seemed to know a lot about running the place, she found him not to be a personable or inspiring lord. The Baroness was angry with her and so was Arimingo, and the court had become a haven for young ne’er-do-wells who made their living making fun of her just for doing what she’d been sworn to do and behaving the way the Dreaming had crafted her. Why bother? Why care anymore? Why keep trying and keep fighting if all would come to naught anyway? Honor was a lie and maybe it was time for Bridgit to realize that.
The line at Burger King was short, at least, and the troll left with a bag full of fries, burgers and a strawberry shake. She hadn’t been sure about what kind of soda the goblin king had wanted so she just got the shake. After all, goblins are bad guys, and all bad guys like sweet things, right? Bridgit had just gotten to wondering if it would be wrong to eat an order of the fries even though they’d been bought with her own money for an evil villain when the six tin woodsmen came around the corner.
The idea that she could never hope to defeat them all never occurred to her, and she merely dropped the bag of food, drew her sword and waited for their first move. Perhaps it was her unconscious which whispered to her if her life was worth nothing to her duchy and fellows, what better way to serve them than to die? Two of the tin woodsmen marched in with buzz-saws drawn while the other four backed up and made ready to fire their arrows. Bridgit managed to drop the first one before an arrow grazed her left horn and the other woodsman nearly took her right arm off with his saw. Another volley of arrows flew, and with her sword arm bloody and near-useless, Bridgit made ready for a last charge.
With a dizzying suddenness, there was a large calico cat sitting on her shoulder, and he blinked twice and twitched his ears, and in an instant the two of them were standing on a different street in the cold Delaware night.
“H-huh?” was all Bridgit was able to stutter.
“Well, that was a close scrape, wasn’t it?” the cat looked up and addressed her matter-of-factly, “don’t worry, we’re two miles north of where you came from. They’ll never find us now.”
“Oh.”
The large cat scrambled up Bridgit’s leg and sat on her right shoulder, licking the still-bleeding gash, which in a moment closed and healed completely. Then, he leapt to the ground and sat there, staring intently until Bridgit felt slightly uncomfortable.
“So, um…thanks,” she muttered.
“Don’t mention it, young troll. I’m Strod, pleased to meet you.”
“Are you a pooka?”
“Would it matter if I was?” he replied and started walking back towards Phaeden’s Keep. Bridgit took step with him. “So what were you doing with a bag full of hamburgers and six tin woodsmen?”
Looking down, she discovered that she was somehow still carrying the goblin king’s food. “I was asked to purvey food for a visiting dignitary, but I didn’t know there were tin woodsmen about. Come to think of it, if I were in danger, why didn’t my badge go off and alert my court?”
“Perhaps you were out of range?”
“I don’t think so,” Bridgit said darkly, “I bet they knew but just didn’t care. They probably said, ‘Let the big stupid Seelie handle it herself, ha ha ha!’.”
Strod glanced up, “Now, you don’t really believe that, do you? Why would your lady and the sworn fellows of your court leave you die, and above that, let a known threat wander around the area?”
“Because…because…well I don’t know! They just would, that’s all!” she finally exploded, “everyone hates me and I’m useless and no matter what I do no one will be my friend.”
“So you’re going to go eat worms?” Strod quipped.
Bridgit growled low in her chest. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Stop being such a fatalist, little troll. Why do you care about so much?”
“Because it is my duty. And why do you answer every question with another question?”
“Why not?” and Strod smiled and flicked an ear.
Growling louder this time, Bridgit shoved one hand back into her pocket and considered throwing the bag of food at the irascible cat.
“Anyway, what else would you do? Run away to the mortal world, end up in another bad relationship and forget yourself in six months? Or rather, go back to Cumberland Gap and serve Sir Tiernan when the old man dies? Perhaps you might break your oaths and die in a selfish tangle of pain and misery? Hmm, those options sound good?”
“Who are you, and how do you know so much about me?” Bridgit asked, stopping to fully regard him.
“I’m Strod, and I think what you should be asking is, why don’t you know so much about you? Well, here’s Sir Phaeden’s Keep, you’d better hurry because if I don’t miss my guess, your court is going off to quest in a few minutes. I certainly hope you’ll be more polite to the next person who saves your life.”
“Er, yes. I’m sorry, I owe you my life, Strod the Cat, and if ever I may repay the debt, I shall endeavor to do so.”
He smiled again, and flicked his ears thrice, but before vanishing, winked and said, “Dame Bridgit Steadheart, stop, breathe, go, live!”
The entire Court of the Yellow Crescent was assembled in the front foyer about to leave for the trod at Toby’s house when Bridgit came through the door. Baroness Vivian gave her a stern glare and turned away, and the troll realized that they all probably thought she’d been angry and run off for hours. True, her sleeve was torn, but Strod had healed the wound, so they’d all just say she ripped the shirt herself to save face. Pained and resigned, she followed the caravan to New Jersey, and when Arimingo acidly pointed out that a few people couldn’t make themselves invisible and they had two fighters who could, Bridgit was sure they’d put her in the ‘doesn’t need to go’ group just out of spite.
In internal desperation, she turned to the redcap, Spicy, with whom she felt the closest camaraderie, “Would you really feel comfortable going in there without me?”
“Honestly, no. There’s no knowing what could be in there.”
Taken aback by his acknowledgment of her use, Bridgit just numbly nodded along with those who thought they should be allowed to go on the quest. As it happened, Arboretum did a scrying and discovered that Toby’s parents were asleep anyway, so they all just leapt onto the roof and into his room.
As she’d figured, there were a host of horrible nightmares in the boy’s closet-trod, but the court made short work of them. Her trained warrior’s eye recognized that Cailleac and Spicy had the potential for great things in the guard, but it would mean a great deal of time and training. Matches, though he was strong, wasn’t a very obedient troll, and she knew he’d have to learn to take orders to be a successful soldier.
Not wanting to face the unpleasant ride home with the Baroness, Arimingo, Wallow, and Arboretum, but doubting anyone else would give her a ride, Bridgit said she still had business and would catch a bus back to Liberty.
It was in the surreally dark late night/early morning air that Bridgit found herself wandering the ruins of the old water gardens in the deep woods behind Rt. 476.
A few lines from the play Inherit the Wind kept running through her head.
BRADY. Mother. They’re laughing at me, Mother.
MRS. BRADY. (Unconvincingly.) No, Matt. No, they’re not!
BRADY. I can’t stand it when they laugh at me.
And Dame Bridgit Steadheart just felt completely and totally laughed at. What she really wanted to do was just leave, run away and oaths be damned; let them eat her away until she died, what was the use anyway? Although, if she were going to go that far, why bother doing anything at all? Why not just let them all have their way? As the chill air danced with thin mist over the browned carpet of leaves, she realized that the only way to be happy was to just say the hell with her supposed ‘integrity’ and act like a young punk like the rest of the court. That way, they’d have to treat her like one of them, wouldn’t they?
Olar Daan, why wasn’t he here? Maybe there was no summoning his ghost. Maybe he wouldn’t come back this time. Without him, she felt like only half a person, and the fear that her next life might not touch his filled her with a unique brand of sorrow.
There was a stirring from deeper in the trees, and Bridgit caught her breath as a beautiful black unicorn stepped into the glen, then on seeing her, fled through the thick wood like a dream in flight. She stood motionless for many minutes, running through her mind every frame of the mythical creature. Such an omen made her shake in the still air and for a moment, her mind was soaring up in those stars whose actions she so feared. For that place in time, it was almost as if Bridgit was there and then not, feeling with every thread of her being music that wasn’t even there.
The moment ended and she was herself again and very, very alone. Tears flowed thickly onto the leaves before the knight even realized she was crying. Was this clearing the Fallen Glen back in Cumberland Gap? Had she been transported by the heart of fate to stand on the ground where her mentor lay? No, it was not so, even though her soul wished it.
“I can no longer do you proud as I am. I will be like the others so I might teach them as you have taught me. Above and beyond the Baroness, Baron Kelvin, above and beyond all of House Gwydion, I am sworn to your memory. If it means that I must pass on your wisdom by acting base and a fool, so will I do, Sir Olar Daan.”
In the moment she opened her eyes, it seemed as though a figure appeared from the mists, a tall figure, with horns.
“Master?” Bridgit called out, and the apparition turned, but it was a female troll hazily represented. “Who are you?”
The shade spat in disgust, “I am your ghost.” and it vanished.
“No! Come back!” Dame Bridgit shouted, but her cries only died in the thick autumn air as the first rays of sun peaked over the horizon and the suffocating darkness faded to early gray. Samhain Night had ended once more, but the tears had still fallen, fell words been still spoken, and oaths made and broken. If we shadows have offended…
Who protects the dreams we dream, my beloved?
T’is the dreamers, and all they seem, sweet dear.
Who protects the dreamers from hurt and harm, my beloved?
T’is the Fair Folk by long sword and arm, sweet dear.
Who protects them, my beloved, these Folk so fair?
For them, sweet dear, there is none there.
Dame Bridgit Steadheart, soon to be ex-Captain of the Guard of the Court of the Yellow Crescent and currant Mistress of Bards of the Seelie Seasons, dozed lightly on the packed Amtrak regional from Boston, Atlanta-bound. She was only riding to Philadelphia, and thank all providence of the Dreaming for it, she reflected. The man sitting in front of her had been ranting to his elderly mother since midway though Connecticut, and they weren’t getting off until Newark. That, and with the strange woman sitting to her right who’d been whispering to herself since Boston, the troll was quickly losing patience with mortals.
It’d been a nice weekend, though. Her aunt and uncle (mother’s sister and husband) had invited her up to Andover, Mass. for Thanksgiving, and Bridgit had had a wonderful time. It was warm for the season and all the leaves were golden, red or orange and the houses were big and colonial. Her aunt’s cooking was, as usual, delicious, and her cousin even showed her around historical Salem. There she’d met an old sea-troll working in the Salem Pirate Museum and the two had talked for hours. Now, however, it was with a heavy heart that she returned to Sylvania.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go home; far from it. It was just that she wanted to go home home. Bridgit wanted to go back to Crystal Hills in the Duchy of Steel and serve Baron Trembain again until such time as he went finally from the Autumn World and then she would serve whomever Duke Fogerty appointed as the next Baron, praying it wouldn’t be Sir Tiernan. However, to do such would mean to break her oath to the Court of the Yellow Crescent as well as her promise to help Cerdiwyn find High King David, and her promises to Sir Phaedin and Ellette to help however she could in saving Sylvania and defeating Bres and the Balor. Sometime, Bridgit felt like she couldn’t breathe. That, and being accosted by Arimingo while she was on-line on her uncle’s computer.
DOCBANDER: Bridgit, we need to talk. The Baroness is very angry with you.
BLUEGRRRL333: What’s wrong?
DOCBANDER: You’ve done nothing but shirk off responsibilities since the forming of the court, and frankly, you’re so out of line that it’s mind-boggling.
BLUEGRRRL333: What did I do?
DOCBANDER: Well, first there was running off to sulk at Samhain and then conveniently returning just in time to quest.
BLUEGRRRL333: I told you, I was attacked.
DOCBANDER: That’s bullshit and you know it. If you’d really been attacked all of our badges would have gone off. Nothing happened, you’re lying about the whole thing to save face.
BLUEGRRRL333: That’s not true.
DOCBANDER: Whatever. Second, the Baroness asked you to compile a list of the strengths and weaknesses of the guard, which you haven’t done.
BLUEGRRRL333: I haven’t had a chance…it’s not easy to get those young punks together long enough to get anything done. I have no idea how I’m going to get them trained unless they behave.
DOCBANDER: More excuses. Then there’s the nasty e-mail to Spicy. Do I need to remind you that he’s your superior? The Baroness appointed him to lead the half of the court you’re assigned to.
BLUEGRRRL333: It wasn’t a nasty e-mail…All I did was ask him not to speak for me to General Cogsworth. The General and I have known each other for a while and he already knows what I’m capable of. Besides, I’m Captain of the Guard, isn’t it my job to tell Spicy what to do?
DOCBANDER: Who the hell do you think you are? Don’t forget that everyone swore fealty to the Baroness, not you. Your job is just to train them, that is your only use in the court. Spicy is your superior and you will treat him as such.
BLUEGRRRL333: Spicy’s a cool little guy, but I’m sorry to have to put it this way…I’m a knight. The Dreaming has recognized my title as given me by Baron Kelvin Trembain ap Gwydion. I will do as the Baroness commands, but how can I lead the guard if he leads me?
DOCBANDER: Oh, don’t worry, you won’t be Captain of the Guard much longer.
BLUEGRRRL333: What’s that supposed to mean?
***Auto-Response from DOCBANDER*** I’m off doing things right now which means I’m not here.
Just the thought of the conversation made Bridgit’s stomach turn. She’d been faithful and a noble follower, how could she be anything else? And now, it was all turning on her. What kind of noble, let alone a Gwydion, would honor the word of an Unseelie knave over a Seelie knight of their own house? It was like there was no way out, and she desperately wished for Kia or Olar Daan. There had to be someone, somewhere, who knew her and knew what she was feeling. Perhaps this was what Winter was all about.
The train sped towards Philadelphia, but it was already nearly 9pm. She was already late for the Thanksgiving gather, and no doubt the Baroness would have something to say about it. Bridgit had also agreed to give Boom Boom and Calliac a ride, which she didn’t feel like doing. Sighing, she pulled out her cell and called the downstairs of the Yellow Crescent Inn.
“’Lo?” It was the boy that the redcap protected.
“Christopher? Is Calliac there?”
“Un-huh.”
“Um, can I, like, talk to her?”
“Uh…yeah. She’s sleeping…I’ll go get her,” he said and dropped the phone.
After a few minutes and a great deal of noise in the background, Calliac picked up. “Whadda ya want?”
Bridgit cleared her throat authoritatively. “Calliac, this is Bridgit.”
“Oh. Er, sorry. I thought ya were one of those phone-sluts tryin’ ta sell me stuff. What’s up?”
“Listen, my train’s due in Philly at about 9, and then I’m going to catch the 9:26 back to Swarthmore. My truck’s parked at Wallow’s place so by the time I get home it’ll be near 10. The travel’s worn me out, and I really don’t feel up to driving all the way to Syrani’s place. Do you guys mind not going to the gather?”
“Sure, no prob. Me and Boom Boom were gonna rent some movies and have a few beers, why don’cha come on down and join us?”
“That would…be fun. I’ll call you when I get in.”
On finally reaching the picturesque Yellow Crescent Inn, Bridgit sighed deeply and went up to the little room she was forced to call her only refuge in the world. With a heavy heart she remembered the apartment she’d had only six months before; the cozy place that was always warm, even in the winter, and it was just her, Lizzerbee the chimera and her black kitten. Now her room was more like a prison, and she often found herself making patrols about the barony just for an excuse not to go home. How could it be that a noble, a Seelie Gwydion (as if there were such a thing as an Unseelie Gwydion!), would treat a loyal vassal so poorly?
Throwing her travel-bag on her bed, she whipped out her cell again and dialed.
“Yo?”
“Hey, Calliac? It’s Bridgit again. Look, would you two mind coming up here to hang out? I…I can’t go downstairs.”
“Sure, think nothin’ o’ it! If ya don’t mind me askin’ though, how come you can’t come down here?” the redcap replied.
Bridgit sighed deeply. “It’s just, well, remember how I had promised those friends of mine that I would guard the toys?”
“Yup.”
“Well, the Baroness thought they weren’t safe enough in my room where they lived, so she told them to live in that utility closet next door to you. To keep them safe from Darius Steelgrave, she put some kind of high-class ward on the downstairs, and, well, it seems that everyone except me can go down there.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah,” Bridgit answered, “what if there’s an emergency down there and my help is needed? As Captain of the Guard is it my duty to protect the inn and those inside, but I can’t even go down the stairs.”
“Fuh! Don’t you worry ‘bout no emergency! Me an’ Boom Boom could take care of anything anyone could throw at us.”
“I guess.”
“Hey, I got it! Come down to the ground level and we’ll meet ya in the kitchen!”
Shrugging to no one in particular, the troll lumbered down the stairs and into the semi-dark kitchen, tripping over a dirty pan that had fallen onto the floor.
“Damn it! What we need around here’s a boggan.”
“Alrighty! Now the fun starts!” Calliac grinned toothily as she bounded up the stairs, trailed by Boom Boom, busily scribbling on a little note pad and rapidly clicking his pocket-abacus.
Bridgit frowned speculatively. “What ‘fun’?”
“Tell ‘er, Boom Boom!”
“Ah, yes, well, that is, if you take this here and twidge this like that, well then it’s calibrated exactly so don’t touch that button at all unless it starts, er, glowing, but if it’s only flashing Morse code then throw it and run so it doesn’t explode,” and the nocker smiled proudly and handed her a small metal gadget.
“And what do I do with it?”
“Just start walkin’ down the stairs and that should do it,” said the redcap, stepping quickly behind Boom Boom.
Sighing, she did so, hesitating slightly and wincing in preparation of walking into the ward she knew was there. A strong, unpleasant feeling throbbed in her bones and made her want to go down on her knees and be sick. At that moment, the metal ball began humming and shaking, with green sparks flying off the appendages, and as Bridgit put her foot down on the first stair, it blasted apart and filled the air with green, glowing smoke.
The troll coughed and turned around to glare balefully at the two. “Was that supposed to happen?” Boom Boom nodded eagerly. “I see. Well, now how am I going to get downstairs?”
‘Don’tcha see? There’s a hole blown in the ward now, right here on the stairs. It’ll probably close up again in a bit, but for now, it’s all good. So, last one down orders the pizza?”
Bridgit wiped some of the thick green soot off her face and smiled slowly as the two scrambled past her and ended up tumbling to the floor in a tangle. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad night after all.
The voices sounded like the rough and horrible pounding of surf on some forsaken shore. This might have been because Bridgit was following her now normal routine of sitting in her room and getting drunk before sleeping. It wasn’t that she was an alcoholic or drank for the fun of it; she downed the stuff night after night so she would be deep asleep when Arimingo came home, which was when the bashing would begin. He, the Baroness, and often Matches, Gina, and Spicy, if they were around, would ‘discuss’ her, believing she couldn’t hear them. The tortures went on every night, at least, every night she wasn’t sleeping in her car or awake via coffee at some run-down diner.
One night they’d had mortal company, a woman friend of the Baroness who came with her boyfriend. Bridgit was in her room reading, and as usual, she doubted anyone knew she was there or had even bothered to check.
“Aw, that’s cute,” the Baroness’ shrill voice rang out, “if you want, you can fool around on Bridgit’s bed. Lazy good-for-nothing’s always out anyway.”
“We were going to fuck on her bed while she was in Boston, but then Matches came in with a bunch of people looking for a party so we never got around to it,” Arimingo put in.
Shuddering, Bridgit forced back the urge to vomit. That was such a…violation. Though her room might belong to the House of the Yellow Crescent, her bed was hers. In fact, she’d brought it will her from Cumberland Gap; it was the bed she’d slept in for the last ten years. Maybe she was sworn to the same house as the Baroness, and maybe her soul was pledged in service to the nobles, and true, maybe she was sworn in friendship to Arimingo and the Baroness, but enough was enough. Damn Bridgit Steadheart was not going to let her oaths and personal honor make her a punching bag for those who would treat her as such. A noble could fall from grace, after all, hadn’t the entirety of House Balor done just that?
Mind full of new and sweet thoughts of rebellion, Bridgit fell into a deep sleep. She dreamed that Olar Daan wasn’t dead and that he came into her room and the two of them left the blighted House of the Yellow Crescent (House of Rotted Dreams). Perhaps she remembered speaking to Phaedin and Cerdiwyn, but that, at best, was hazy. The most remarkable part of the dream was when the one she thought was Olar Dann turned into Sir Tiernan and called down painful power from the sky. Then, Bridgit realized she was trapped in stone, and that all of it had been no dream.