“So you may have known me,” the Lyric replied, her head nodding slightly in acknowledgment. “But you have awakened me from my long sleep and freed me. The grateful thanks of my kingdom shall be yours!”
“Kingdom?” RuuKag rumbled. “What kingdom?”
“I see, you do not understand,” the Lyric said with slight condescension. “It is to be forgiven.”
“Perhaps our good lady would humor us?” Jugar said with a smile although his eyes showed uncertainty.
The Lyric raised her face in statuesque magnificence.
“I am Murialis,” she said, her deep tones resonating in the hall. “Fae Queen of the Hyperian Woodland, lost these many years to my native lands, lying in forgetfulness until you, good friends, have freed me from my awful captivity. To you I offer the protection of my kingdom, sanctuary from your pursuers, and the grateful thanks of the woodland realm.”
RuuKag gasped. “You’re. . you’re a queen?”
“I am, RuuKag of the manticores,” the Lyric intoned solemnly, “Fae Queen of the Hyperian Woodland.”
Belag nodded thoughtfully. “It is another sign from the gods. It begins, Drakis-do you not see it? It is spoken of old that ‘he shall meet with commoners and kings that the works of his justice shall be wrought.’”
Drakis held up his hand before his maticorian companion could get any further with his religious discourse. “Jugar, we. . I’ve never heard of such a queen. Do you know what she is talking about?”
Jugar kept his eyes fixed on the imperious form of the Lyric in the water. “I. . there is a faery queen that is said to rule in cold isolation in the great woods west of the Aerian Mountains. Her realm is closed to outsiders, however, and there are no tales-at least, none reliable-concerning the ruler of forest spirits and sprites. It is said that those who have ventured beyond her borders never return, having been ensnared by that mystical realm and brought into a sleep that lasts a thousand years.”
“Who would have been awake, then, to tell the tale?” Ethis asked dryly.
Jugar rolled his eyes. “These are indeed but tales, and I am, after all, a fool who is telling them. Entertainment is my business, not the chronicle of the ages.”
Five notes. . Five notes. .
A queen of the north. .
In hope drawing forth. .
“But such a queen,” Drakis persisted. “Could it be possible that Timuran somehow captured her. . enslaved her?”
Jugar screwed his left eye into a hard wink as he considered. “Stranger things have happened, lad. . although I can’t recall any of them at the moment.”
Nine notes. . Seven notes. .
“But if she is who she says she is,” Drakis persisted, “then we have a chance at a life. If we can make it to this kingdom of hers. .”
“The Hyperian Woods?” Jugar laughed. “You are ambitious, lad! That’s full well sixty-maybe seventy leagues from here!”
Five notes. . Five notes. .