“So where do I fit in to all of this?”
Balthazar and Mr. Cyning looked to each other and then both turned to look at Alfred. Mr. Cyning spoke first, “Faërie is always better when connected to humanity. The separation between the two is unnatural. When evil like this comes forward is important for Faërie to find a human with the second sight to help. What your proper role will be, cannot yet be told. This is why Balthazar is to be your guide. Whatever part you are called to play, it will be a great one, lad, I can promise you that.”
“Come along, my son,” Balthazar said to Alfred.
“Wait, I’m leaving now? What about my family?” Alfred exclaimed.
“There’s no time, boy. The goblins will come and attack the village. If you don’t go into Faërie now, there may be no Carlisle to return to. I know its hard. I had hoped to better prepare you myself, but there we are. Alfred, the goblins are ruthless, their king hates humanity more than most. He comes from a long-lived goblin line and was part of the attack against the village when they tried to burn St. Nicholas’s. He will stop at nothing. He’s been biding his time far in the North, for they were banished from England for a thousand years, all that time to foment and plan for his revenge. A young villager caved in part of his face with a mattock, and since then he has vowed revenge against humanity for the loss of his eye, not to mention a fair few of his teeth. He will have trained his goblins to be ferocious, cruel, loving to give pain. You must go, and now.”
Alfred remembered the music from his dream, he thought of how much he loved his parents, his village. He was confused, about so many things, but one thing was certain, he trusted Mr. Cyning, everything he read about Faërie, all of it incidental, taught him to discern good from evil. He knew evil must be fought, even in the face of defeat, which he hoped it would not come to. Without realising it, he found himself resolved to do whatever he could. He could think of nothing that made him special, that made him worthy, but this too he knew so often essential in fairy tales. It was not about him, but what needed to be done.
“Alright,” he said at last, “I’ll do it. Lead me where you will Balthazar.”
“Into the forest then, my son.”
“Good luck, Alfred,” called Mr. Cyning. “The hopes of Faërie and England rest with you.”
Alfred looked changed, as if the air of Elfland had already begun to flow in him. His walk became more determined, less that of a listless twenty-something, as he entered the forest, being guided by the small gnome, not knowing what his fate would bring him.
Chapter 5
As Alfred and Balthazar ventured deeper into the wood, Alfred noticed a change. The air seemed richer, more fulfilling, the colors seemed more vibrant. “That’s the air of Elfland you’re breathing in, my son,” Balthazar said without turning around, as if he knew what kinds of affects it was having on Alfred. “For most humans it makes them confused, it’s why they get lost. For seers, however, it has the opposite effect. You will feel your senses getting clearer, sharper. Goodness becomes amplified in the good, badness in the bad.” This made Alfred afraid and so he checked the pride beginning to swell in his heart.
“Can non-seers ever be taught to see?” he asked the gnome.
“Not in the way you do. They can never see dreams of Elfland, or anywhere else for that matter. They can, however, be taught to see Elfland with their waking eyes. The air here can have the same effect on them. Even when it does confuse it almost always has a positive effect on those who breathe it. But while true seers are born, great seers are first born and then made.”
Alfred pondered this. “You mean the ability is innate, but its application must be practiced.”
“Tried would be truer, but yes, that is the general idea. You must learn how to see with the sight you have been given.”
“How will I learn?”
“By patience, by exposure to Elfland, and by telling me all you see in dreams.”
They marched on for several more hours, with no sign of relenting. It was now that Alfred realized Balthazar was not walking on top of the ground, but wading through the forest floor as if it were water. “Is that how you always walk?” he asked, hoping he was not being impolite.
“Gnomes are at home in the dirt in nearly the same way fish are in water. Or perhaps more like whales, we do not draw our breath from the earth, but we swim and glide through it. It is our home.”
They continued on in silence. Balthazar stopped. At first, Alfred thought he had offended the gnome with an impertinent question. Balthazar, however, turned to Alfred and whispered, “Go stand behind one of these trees, and be quiet. I’ll be back shortly.” With that, Balthazar burrowed into the dirt, or perhaps dove better describes his entrance into the earth so that he vanished from Alfred’s sight.
Alfred did his best to remain quiet as he moved behind one of the trees. He heard voices in the distance and a loud plodding as if feet which were marching to different beats were trying to keep pace with one another. He crouched down behind a tree and held his breath. What he saw frightened him, and had he not been in Elfland for many hours now, he might have fainted from fear. As it was, it took all of his courage not to scream and run away.
Lumbering before him—standing perhaps four and half feet high and three feet broad, with arms that would drag on the ground if not folded, skin a muddy mixture of black, brown, and green, eyes fierce and large, and teeth razor sharp—were two goblins. From how very wicked they looked did Alfred guess rightly that they were goblins.
“Ar, I hate walking in the sun, even if the trees are dense. It hurts my eyes and makes me feel too warm,” said one goblin to the other.
“You’d hate the punishment you’d get if refused to do your duty,” replied the other.
“That’s the truth of it. Oh, I can’t wait to be done. We’ll take over that mountain and never have to venture into the sun again, except when we want to torture someone. Oh it will be nice.”
“Keep your voice down, you idiot. We’re in enough danger as it is.”
“I still say you were smelling things as weren’t there, Hogsnout.”
“And I’m telling you, I smelt human, and a human this close to those accursed elves and dwarves will do us no good. I promise you that. My nose has never failed and I tell you there was human nearby. If the smell’s getting dimmer it either means he’s spent too much time in this accursed place and is beginning to smell like it or he’s gone. Neither option is good for us, nor our mission.”
“Well then let’s get on with what we’ve come to do. Do you think they’ll join us?”
“Oh I’m sure of it. Our king will offer them land, and plenty of human and elfin flesh to eat. The trolls and giants will be on our side, no worries there. The hobgoblins may be harder to convince. Anyway, let’s move on. You’re right about one thing, whatever’s happened with that human, our best bet is to