Through the Faery Door

 

"Why must I wear this?" Ulrich asked as the Yunni shaman handed him the bear skin headdress.

"It has been part of the seeking ceremony for centuries. The first seeker saw it in a dream from the Star Bear," the shaman said, then he smiled. "And the faeries like it."

The massive Northman, his hand big enough to almost encircle the tiny Yunni's head, put it on. "Ridiculous."

"It is no different from the many images inked all over your body."

Ulrich shrugged. "Maybe so. Now what?"

The shaman leaned toward his fireplace and ladled out a steamy liquid into a wooden cup. "Drink this and lie down. The doorway will open when it wants. You must be patient."

Ulrich swallowed the liquid. It tasted like simple beef broth, salty and mushroomy. He reclined on his back and stared at the cottage rafters hung with garlic and other drying herbs.

"What if I go to sleep?"

"Feel free," the shaman said. "You will wake when the door opens."

He was right. Ulrich knew the instant the door opened.

A sound like a steady breeze filled his ears, and he opened his eyes. Instead of rafters and herbs, he saw a vivid sunset sky painted read and orange. A few wispy clouds were like a master painter’s delicate pink brush strokes.

A golden hawk circle high overhead. He watched it slowly glide, spiraling without effort, descending toward him. It landed on Ulrich’s booted foot, folding its golden wings. He noted little glints of light, like yellow fireflies, all around it.

“Hello, Ulrich,” the hawk said in a feminine voice; her Northani accent was flawless. He was not amazed by this; somehow, he expected it.

“Hello, uh, milady.” Yes. Gold Lady. That sounded right.

“My Yunni friend says you are on a sacred quest to seek your wife.”

“I am.”

The hawk stared at him for a long moment. “There is no journey more imperative,” Gold Lady said.

Ulrich watched the little glints of light drift around her in an expanding sphere, a golden bubble that surrounded them both, prickling along his skin as the surface touched him and passed through him.

“There is a place you should see,” Gold Lady said. Without further discussion, or even movement of her wings, Ulrich felt his body lifted, still reclining, into the brilliant sunset sky. He was riding in a golden bubble that scattered the light into a shimmering rainbow, like living lamp oil swirling on water.

The bubble turned, shifting his body to reveal a winter landscape of snowy trees and meandering streams. A herd of reindeer looked up, unconcerned, as he flew over. He saw pixies in the high tree tops, foxes with white winter coats patrolling the drifts, and a scattering of cottages and cabins of the Yunni folk. He even saw individual fish floating motionless in cold, shadowy pools.

The bubble dropped down to treetop level, moving faster now. Faster. Faster.

Ulrich had never experienced anything like it. He had been on fast rivers and fast horses, but this was uncanny. His eyes could only make out a smear of green trees and white snow below him.

Ahead, a jagged mountain range extended left and right to infinity. It looked like a wall along the edge of the world. The snowy peaks were as welcoming as dragon’s teeth.

“This is the exciting part,” Gold Lady said, unworried, still sitting like a statue on his foot.

The mountains came closer, looming high, blocking the sunset.

Ulrich tensed, suddenly feeling like he was falling face down, the ragged mountain range becoming the ground. His belly protested. “By the gods!” he cried out reflexively. His hands came up in a useless gesture to break his fall.

A dot on the “ground” became an open doorway, firelight flickering somewhere within.

The doorway rushed up. He was not slowing; this was going to hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard, still tasting the mushroom broth. He silently promised to never again drink anything a Yunni gave him.

“We have arrived,” Gold Lady said. “That was exciting, yes?”

He opened his eyes. He was sitting in a comfortable chair in a room lit by many candles and a cheerful fireplace. He saw no doors or windows, but he was not concerned. Some distant part of his mind was amused at how docile he had become. A true Northman never allowed himself to be trapped or beguiled.

Across from him, sitting in her own chair, was a lady in a golden dress with gossamer ruffles. She was surrounded in shimmering light like the last moment of sunset over a glittering snowfield.

Ulrich blinked, at last fully understanding the vast magick that gripped him. Who was this sparkling creature sitting across from him? A witch? A goddess? A demon?

“I bring few outsiders to my home, Ulrich,” she said with a small smile. “Many could not endure the trip.”

“I am a Northman,” he said.

“Indeed.” She smiled again, her words gentle. “You say that as if it defines who you are. Many Northmen are craven. The snows of their birth have no bearing on their character.”

Ulrich blinked. He had no head for philosophy or clever banter. He was here for one reason. “I came for a wife.”

“I know. And for the life of me, I cannot fathom why. Do you even know why?”

Ulrich opened his mouth, ready for his thoughts to come tumbling out, but nothing happened. Why indeed? Why did he want a wife?

Images of his father’s wives came to mind; his own mother was the third wife out of five. His childhood home was noisy and bustling as a bee hive, a thatched longhouse holding a dozen siblings and any number of relations and traveling friends depending on the season and the number of blood feuds at a given time.

He remembered the long northland summer days spent hunting and fishing, gaming and fighting. Later, he hunted girls in nearby villages, offering to wrestle their brothers if any thought him too weak to deserve her attention. These were the years when he learned to boast and bluff, when to take a licking from a better fighter, and when to apply diplomacy and guile.

All this to woo a girl.

Then a thought bubbled out onto his tongue. “A wife will make me better.”

The golden lady, for the first time, looked suddenly out of her element. She had been so calm and controlled before. In charge. Now her brow furrowed and her mouth fell open slightly.

She composed her face and rose, alabaster hands clasped before her. “I see.”

She walked toward the crackling fireplace and opened a small box on the stone mantle. She bent toward the fire then turned toward Ulrich, a red candle flickering in her hands. The candle had been used before, probably many times judging by the long, frozen drips of wax down every side.

Her eyes were shining. She looked up at the ceiling of her uncanny cottage without doors or windows. “I will help this one.”

Ulrich again heard a sound like a steady breeze.

“I seek your blessings on this quest,” the golden lady said to the ceiling. Then she locked eyes with Ulrich. “For this one I deem worthy.”

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