FILBERT'S ADVENTURE THROUGH THE SHADOW WORLD, cont.
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Once outside the city's walls Filbert gets a big breath, have been many hours since his last decent meal and he was starving. He knows that once in the city he may face ghosts or bad fairies but on the other hand if he doesn't get some food now he had to hunt and he really didn't want to risk eating any vegetables or animal from this world. So he takes a deep breath and moves towards the City.
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Filbert finds an open gate, which seems unguarded.
Once inside the city, he discovers that the layout of the streets in this city is similar to that of Haes.
He doesn't have much trouble finding the source of the pie aroma-- following his nose he arrives at a two story bakery, about where one stands in the real Haes.
An open counter runs along the near face of the building of black timber and leprous white plaster.
A broken line candles runs along the edge of the counter top, burning to cast little orbs of green and blue light.
As Filbert sneaks up to get a better look, he spots a big, fat pie sitting just within reach at the edge of the counter. A faint, almost invisible mist of steam arises from vents in its flaky, golden brown crust. The smell of it changes with every shift of the breeze; apple, cherry, mincemeat, even lemons from far-off Mieres.
All he’d have to do is creep up and…
“Hungry?” The woman’s soft, pleasant voice carries a hint of authority, almost as if her question had been a statement.
Filbert’s belly grumbles loud enough to be heard.
A long white hand, the fingers so delicate and the skin so clear that the whole appendage seems spun of glass, drapes over his shoulder.
“Take. Eat. Be filled. And then tell me why you have returned to this world. Always there is a reason with your kind.”
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The sight and the smell of the fresh pie gets Filbert realize how hungry he really is and this woman with the soft voice is almost begging him take a bite of the pie. Filbert looks around one more time because there is something bothering him, the woman seems totally normal which by fact was impossible for this place. Filbert is expecting to see ghosts, feys, even undead or spirits but not a kind woman with white hands. He jumps back drawing his sword and says with a voice that he tries to make it sound steady:
"Who are you? What do you want from me?"
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When he jumps back and turns round, Filbert sees a tall, slim woman standing just a couple of steps away from him. She wears a pale green gossamer robe that ruffles with every shift in the breeze. The beautiful, wan lady smiles at Filbert, revealing perfect, pearly teeth. She lifts her hands to run slender fingers through long, coiling locks of hair the color of icicles at sunrise, pink and gold and clear all at once.
“I am sometimes called the Glass Lady, my Little One. I want only to feed you, to make you happy. Later, perhaps, I will ask a favor of you—nothing that will take you far from your road methinks.“
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Filbert lowers his sword but doesn't put it away yet. He tries to remember if he has ever heard that name before. The woman has touched him so she shouldn't be a ghost so she is probably a fey but of course he can't be sure. He looks at her studying her for a moment, he doesn't like the blackmailing or owe a favor to a fey but on the other hand he is starving...
"May I hear the favor first and then decide if I do it or no and get the pie if we have a deal?"
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"You may have all the pie you like; fruit pies, meat pies, all good and delectable things to eat. And I will weave a ward to hide you from the Hungry Dead. I only ask that you take this--"
The Glass Lady twists her hands, spinning a three -inch whorl of dull-glinting blue crystal from thin air.
“—and bury it in the ground of the place you crossed over into this world. Just that.”
She smiles again, leaning close to Filbert. A faint smell like wet sand fills the halfing’s nostrils.
“Do we have a pact?”
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Filbert looks at the Glass Lady quizzically, her offer seems really tempting, he could eat as much pie as he wants plus he will be protected against the Hungry Dead that apparently exist at this Shadow World. This will make his mission easier, but the true question is-- can he really trust this faerie creature? And what was the deal with the crystal? Filbert doesn't know much about magic but right now is believing that this crystal may help to open a gate to his world so this Glass Lady can cross over. The halfling isn't sure if he wants that to happen. There was a reason his ancestors left this Shadow World and till then he believes that the 2 worlds should remain apart. Of course he and the other halflings are able to cross over sometimes but Filbert doesn't know what Glass Lady's true motive is and if she wants to pass to material world herself or lead someone else, even an invasion...With that thought Filbert shakes his head, he has come here to stop an invasion not help another one to begin...If that is the case of course, just the risk is too high to take it.
Taking few more steps back so he is out of reach, he says:
"I'm sorry I have to leave, I'm in great hurry." With that he exits the shop and starts running. Hopefully he can find another place to eat something in this Shadow City.
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The tinkling laughter of the Glass Lady follows Filbert down the street. Things like fat black moths erupt from the shutters of nearby houses and chase after Filbert, laughing in shrill child-tones.
When Filbert does slow down at last, winded, he finds himself in a small vacant lot surrounded by high houses built of black timber and plaster the color of old bones. The moth-things are gone, but he hears echoes of their laughter on the fitful breezes. A few narrow alleys lead out of the lot.
A quick glance over his shoulder reveals that the walls behind him have shifted without a sound, closing off the street by which he came into the lot.
Filbert hears a dull clatter and faint hollow thuds like footfalls down a long corridor. The wind shifts, bringing him the foul odor of a charnel house. He has just enough time to hide before a troop of thirty or more skeletal soldiers file into the lot and begin searching for something, poking their spears into mounds of dirt and black weeds. The dead men all freeze in place, perfectly still, almost as if they are listening for some noise…Filbert can hear his heart thudding in his chest, hear every breath he takes.
After a few minutes, the dead men regroup without a word of command that Filbert can hear, and they march back out of the little square, leaving him alone.
The Halfling searches the shadow city for food, hungry and hunted, silent dead men and screeching black moth-sprites stalking him through the dim streets.
At last he finds a familiar sign, the old Halfling mark for ‘food/drink’ on the side of a tumbled stone house at the edge of town. Searching in haste, he uncovers a battered wooden box that contains a few moldy but edible wheat cakes, a jug of vinegar-and-water, and a sack of shriveled turnips. It’s not much, but it should sustain him for a while.
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With the images of the Glass Lady, the walls that change place, the skeletons digging in the dirt to find something and the dead men and sprites stalking him at the streets still vivid at his memory Filbert miraculously manages to eat everything he finds at the box and the shriveled turnips. He also drinks some water and then cautiously gets out of the store and moves north hoping to get out of the City as soon as possible.
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How long Filbert splashes across the sodden bogs and crawls through the tangled bramble woods of the shadow lands, he cannot tell. Days? Weeks? The sun never rises here; time loses meaning in the eternal twilight.
Weird robed monsters with pallid faces and long hands stalk him, but he takes refuge in holes, ditches, hollow and rotted log and thus escapes the hunters.
At last he reaches a blasted hill atop which looms a stone circle; the northern crossing point. If his lore proves true, this transit should move him into the hold of the Count of Ghonallison, or near it.
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Once at the hill Filbert takes a last look down at the City, he is sure that all these undead, the robed monsters with the palid faces and the horrible sounds that were heard all around will haunt his dreams for long time. Proud of himself that he has made it that far, Filbert takes a deep breath and with new strength and hoping he will make it on time he gets the transit that should take him to Ghonallison.
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Filbert appears in a torch lit hall with rushes spread on the floor.
A door down the hall swings open and the smell of cooking meat and baking bread flood into the hall.
"The Count's supper is ready'', someone calls.
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Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
-from Moby Dick (Hermann Melville)
