Chapter the Twenty-second

Wynd spent the night restless in the woods. After making sure no one was near, she cast off her cloak and flew upward, leaving the forest floor behind.
She broke through the treetops and into the wan moonlight. Her wings shimmered gently. Wynd flew up and up, as though trying to reach the moon. At the time, it seemed that another world was the only one where she could be happy. Her castle was demolished. And even if Llorleya was repaired and put under its true queen, nothing would heal the pain of Wynd’s failure.
She finally went back to the dark canopy. Burying her head in her arms, she began to pray. She couldn’t think of anything else she could do. But often it is our greatest need that drives us to know that He is the only one who can truly help.
****
The sun rose, and Gilligan awoke to see Wynd crouched against a tree trunk. Her cloak was back on, and she had fallen asleep sitting up. Gilligan wondered if it was uncomfortable or not.
He surveyed the food supply. They had enough for a long, long time, but Gilligan didn’t really want to eat. Between discovering Aria was, in fact, truly alive beyond any doubt, the rush of preparation, and the shock of Torlith crushing the castle, Gilligan was too- well, something in a mix excitement and confusion and sorrow for Wynd- to eat. He drank a little water, then woke Wynd.
She made a noise somewhere between a yawn and a groan. "Can it possibly be morning?" she mumbled.
"Take it up with the sun, not me," said Gilligan.
She stretched. "What is there to eat?"
"See for yourself. I don’t feel like eating anything, so it’s all yours."
"You should eat something," Wynd insisted.
Gilligan shook his head. After a short silence, he said gently, "Are you- better- now?"
Wynd halted. "Not completely," she said softly. "But I think I’ll be all right."

They set out soon after. Had they been going the opposite way, they would have had to make a wide circle around the castle; but they were going east, toward the sea.
There was a path through the woods. But they were not going to take this path. "There’s too much sadness there," said Wynd. Gilligan eventually found out that it was the same path Aria and her company had taken when Torlith attacked.
Suddenly something occurred to Wynd. "Stowaway!"
"What?" asked Gilligan, eloquently.
"The cat! I left her in there!"
"You’re not thinking of risking your life for a cat, are you?" asked Gilligan incredulously.
Wynd shook her head. "No, no. But- oh- poor cat, she’ll be-" something rubbed against Wynd’s legs- "she’ll be-" something mewed- "she’ll-" she looked down. Her eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. "Stowaway?!"
"The cat followed us?" asked Gilligan. "Smart cat."
Wynd laughed and picked up Stowaway, rubbing her all over and talking to her as though she were a real person. "So you made it out? Of course any intelligent being would. Are you going to travel with us, dear? I hope…"
"Now that your mind is at ease, shall we continue?" asked Gill.
Wynd set the golden-furred cat on the grass and nodded. She was smiling slightly. "Yes, let’s."

Travel was slow. Gilligan would have preferred to run all the way to the sea, if he could, but they weren’t in any real hurry, according to Wynd. "Aria’s at least fifty days from reaching Llorleya," she said. "We have plenty of time. For goodness’ sake, slow down!"
Wynd was a bit off with her reckoning. Aria was closer to thirty days from Llorleya, and counting them down with bated breath.
There were others also awaiting Aria, but with much less delight.
********
"Princess Aria is alive."
The words that had brought Gilligan so much joy haunted Torlith. How was she still alive?! He almost broke the table with his fist as he pounded it.
Word had come of Aria’s being in Llorleya, raising an army. So Torlith had to be prepared. His crown was not the only thing at stake.
Torlith drew back his forces from the Elf Havens with as much haste as possible. In the meantime, he sent his men to destroy the old castle. Then he got reinforcements. Deadly reinforcements. He thought of sending them to meet her, but decided that surprising her when she assaulted the castle (assuming she would) would be far more fun.
Torlith couldn’t suppress a villainish laugh. (Men are so prone to them, you know… And they are rather fun.)
"Oh, yes, Aria," he murmured. "I have far more power than you know."
**********
Wynd stopped short. "I’m sorry, Gilligan, I know we’ve had so many delays today already, but-"
Gillian turned around and sighed. "It just better be good. Not like rescuing that bug the cat wanted to eat."
Wynd looked somewhere between annoyed and hurt. "It was a dragonfly, and Stowaway would have eaten it if I hadn’t stepped in," she said defensively.
"That’s what I said. Look, cats like bugs, and there are plenty to share, anyway." Wynd looked rather irritated, so Gilligan apologized. "What is it, really?"
"I have a wing cramp."
Surprised, Gilligan asked, "Is that possible?"
"Of course it’s possible, or it wouldn’t be happening. I haven’t flown in three quarters of a month, and I need to stretch my wings. Tell me if anyone comes." She shed the cloak gracefully onto the ground. "Oh, that’s better."
As she took off, Gilligan went to gather up her cloak. As he walked underneath her, he became showered with dust. It stuck to his hair and he spent the better part of an hour trying to get it out (not that he was very particular about his hair, but he didn’t want it to draw attention).
When he finally picked up the cloak- stepping under a tree to avoid the rest of the dust falling on the ground, as Wynd was still soaring and twirling in the clouds- he noticed that the inside was also covered in shimmering dust. "Her wings must be caked with it," he realized.
Yes, fairy wings, like most other things, collect dust with disuse. This is good to know in cases like this (which come rarely enough).
Wynd flew for over and hour and a half. For Wynd it was pure delight to be in the skies, once again feeling excitement course through her veins, and wind pushing on her wings. But it was quite boring for Gilligan, who had nothing better to do that sit on the grass and watch. So he occupied himself with thoughts of Aria, and the hope that they would soon see each other again.
**********
One week later, off the coast of Llorleya

"Land ho!"
Aria bolted onto the deck as the cry was repeated from the crow’s nest.
"Land ho!"
"Land!" cried an elf near her.
"Llorleya," breathed Aria. Joy washed over her, dazing her. Someone- presumably Rayne- hugged her. She thought she heard Raphael say something like, "So this is the land where Queen Cera chose to live." Aria couldn’t read his tone, but she hoped it wasn’t derisive.
Aria pulled herself from the swooning feeling quickly and searched the sea before them. And there it was- a dark strip of almost nothing on the horizon.
After Rayne’s hug, which for all its loving fierceness wasn’t very weighty, Aria was totally unprepared for Tyri’s crushing embrace. And, both being very happy stars with nothing holding them down, they shot up into the air.
Tyri promptly let Aria go. She was slightly rumpled, but darted around the sky as if she didn’t know it, singing a song of joy that had blossomed on the spot.
"Let’s fly there!" she cried, to all the stars in general, who had joined her. "Right now!"
Raphael was the first to try to quench this idea. "It’s much farther than it looks, Aria."
She shot him an annoyed glance. "But it’s my home, and I want to get there as soon as possible!"
"The ship may actually be faster than we are, or at least faster than we would be for the last lap," said Aero, who had been quietly observing the fleet below them.
Aria made a face. "Well, when we’re closer, can we?" she asked, slowly sinking back through the air.
Raphael shrugged. "Maybe."
Aria wasn’t fond of maybes. They left too much potential for "no". But she had come to realize that they left equal potential for "yes", so she just nodded.

The stars never did get that hoped-for race to Llorleya. Raphael had been right; it was farther than it looked. Day dragged into night, and still the coast seemed just as far away. Aria fell asleep on deck, leaning against the edge of the bow. Once she almost fell overboard, but was jerked into half-consciousness just in time, whereupon she backed away from the edge and stared out after Llorleya until she dropped off again.
She awoke again, later in the night, to an elf horn blowing. More joined it. They had arrived. Aria was immediately wide awake.
First came joy, then a kind of alarm. She ran to the elf blowing the horn and put her hand over its mouth. The elf, startled drew back.
"I’m sorry," she said softly. "But you must stop the blowing the horn. We’re in enemy territory now."
The elf, understanding, put down his horn. But the other horns on the other ships were still blowing, until apparently they were also informed of the danger.
We might as well have sailed straight up to the castle and knocked on the door, thought Aria. But the damage had been done. Her only comfort was in the thought that they were too far down the coast from the castle for Torlith himself to get immediate news. This meant that they still had a bit of a head start to make a camp and prepare for war.
Torlith would have found us out eventually anyway, Aria thought. We couldn’t have kept ourselves completely secret right up until we were ready to attack.
Still, she wasn’t thrilled that the coming had been announced so clearly and unmistakably.
Rayne was beside her, too- but her friend’s face mirrored none of the graveness of Aria’s. Rayne was radiant- not quite star-radiant, but brightened and lovely. Aria realized that Rayne hadn’t been in Llorleya for five- almost six- years. So perhaps it wasn’t surprising that when the ship drew near enough for the passengers to be let out, Rayne was the first one on the shore.
She tumbled down onto the beach. Falling on her knees, arms outstretched, and face lifted to the night sky, she burst into a hymn.
"From the deepest-delved roots to the lights of the sky
Greater and lesser, to You they cry
And You will not fail us, for You are our supply
So we lift up our lives; on You we rely.

To You we call now with voices upraised
We dance and we sing; You are worthy of praise
You give us our blessings; You take them away
And our faith, rightly founded, You will never betray."
As she sang, elves and stars filed onto the beach. Aria stood next to her kneeling friend and sang along with her.
When the song ended, Rayne fell back and began waving her arms and legs in the sand. She laughed, almost hysterically.
Aria assisted her to her feet. "What are you doing?" she cried, and brushing the sand off Rayne’s back.
Something in Rayne’s eyes told that she was far away, reliving a memory. "It’s a sand-fairy," she said.
Aria saw that, indeed, the shape on the ground resembled something of a fairy. A sandy, slightly smudged, somewhat awkward fairy. The princess wondered if maybe Rayne had finally cracked. Then she looked at the wanderer, and saw it wasn’t so.
Rayne was gulping down air, trying to breathe again, and she was crying. "For so long I’ve wandered," whispered Rayne. "And now- I’m home. And as soon as the war is over, I will not wander again."
Rayne may have been slightly hysterical, but not because she was touched in the head. She was glad- but it was an emotion that ran deeper, stronger, and truer than gladness. She was home.
**********
Gilligan thought that Wynd was going to lead their journey in a sort of diagonal line southeast, past the forest and towards the coast, but not straight towards it because of Torlith. Instead, Wynd circled around the forest, to a small village on the other side. Gilligan didn’t like it, and said so.
"We’re too close to Torlith’s castle," he said.
"It’s not as though he can see us," said Wynd loftily.
"But the closer we get, the more chance we have of being recognized. Word is likely to have spread this far by now, and it’s hard to keep up a disguise when there are posters of you everywhere."
"Who said anything about posters?" said Wynd. "And it’s a small village- it’s even been bypassed by the patrols of soldiers that plague the other towns in the area.
Gilligan made a face. "I still don’t like it," he said. But Wynd was strangely insistent, and though he didn’t understand it, he finally gave in.
The village, true to her word, was small. The cottages were few and far between, nestled in the rolling hills beyond the forest. The farmers’ fields were becoming ripe for the harvest, but through the expanse of gold hardly a soul was to be seen. Now they would see a child, then a hardened man, then perhaps a young maiden. But no one seemed to wonder who they were, stopped to talk to them, or even said a quick hello.
"These people seem very preoccupied," said Gilligan finally.
"They’ve got problems, just like everyone else," said Wynd. "Though I didn’t think they’d be quite this distant. But they aren’t fond of strangers."
"Then why are we here?" Gilligan asked with a sigh.
Wynd played with a strand of her black hair. "Wait and see, Sir Impatience," she said in a sing-song voice.
"You’re as bad as Aria when it comes to secrets and surprises," said Gilligan, shaking his head.
"Is that meant to be a negative thing?" asked Wynd laughingly. "I’ll give you a hint if you’re so desperate: our visit has something to d with your beloved Princess." She half-whispered the last part, despite the general lack of people to hear.
Gilligan started. "She can’t possibly be here- can she?"
"As far as I know, she is not in the village." With a teasing smile, Wynd danced off ahead, leaving Gilligan to his puzzling.
"Fairies," he muttered. "Come on, Wynd, just tell me!" he called on ahead.
Wynd stopped and waited for him. She rolled her yes. "You are not fun, Gilligan. But maybe I should tell you- for planning purposes. She gazed at him calmly. "Do you really want to help Aria? I mean, as much as you can?"
"Of course!" he exclaimed, as if she had asked whether rivers were wet.
"Enough to put seeing her again further down on your list of priorities?"
"Well, tell me what would be going in front," said Gilligan practically, though he hated the thought of an even longer separation.
"When Aria comes, she’ll have Torlith to contend with. And though I’m not sure how great his forces are…"
"Pretty large," said Gilligan.
"… Thank you. Anyway, it’s not a paltry amount. She’ll need all the help she can get, as soon as possible."
"This you’ve said before.
"So I thought," said Wynd, beginning to flounder in her sea of idea, "that we… could possibly… raise a peasant army of sorts for her."
Gilligan’s eyes lit up. "That’s brilliant, Wynd! We could…" he began rattling off ideas. (Being an ex-knight, he was already thinking out strategies.
What Wynd didn’t tell him was her reason for choosing that particular village to start.
**