Chapter Twelve
The centaur sped through the maze at a pace Garlon would have thought impossible. Mòhr was a ruggedly handsome entity, his long hair flying behind him, his face a brooding mask, all angles and planes. Somehow, he trusted the creature. The centaur had much to gain. That, and that alone, filled the young knight with hope where all else bespoke of doom. He prayed to whatever deity would listen that he hadn’t put his trust in yet another Fae deceiver.
The centaur slowed his pace when a break in the hedge loomed before them. The openings had grown progressively narrower the deeper they traveled into the maze. It was a tight squeeze for the hulking beast, but Mòhr forced his way through the gate in the privet. It was darker there, the walls of the hedge so close together they scraped Garlon’s legs as the centaur carried him toward an alcove.
Suddenly, the Selkie’s cage came into view.
This time, it wasn’t an illusion. Garlon jumped down from the creature’s back and ran to the cage, examining the lock. Inside the little seal was making the saddest sound Garlon had ever heard, a trembling wail, as though she had cried her heart dry. At sight of him, she flopped close to the latch, reaching her flipper toward him through the bars.
“Gods on their thrones! How do I get this open?” Garlon cried, rattling the heart-shaped lock. How inappropriate was that? The Goddess of the Dream Well didn’t have a heart. She couldn’t have, to have penned the poor little harmless creature up.
“Stand aside!” the centaur commanded from behind him.
Garlon spun around. Mòhr had loaded his longbow and taken dead aim on the cage. For one terrible moment, Garlon thought that arrow was aimed at him, or the seal. She shrieked, and cowered and began to tremble, trying to shrink back against the bars in the corner, as far from the centaur’s line of fire as she could.
The poor thing was terrified!
“Shh!” he murmured. “I will not let you come to harm!” Sliding his arm between the bars, he thrust it in front of her. She snuggled against him, hiding her eyes. She was trembling so violently it was all he could do to ease her quaking enough to hold her out of range.
“Keep her still!” the centaur growled “There is time for only one shot! Analee comes. You must trust me, for all our sakes!”
Garlon’s heart froze as the arrow whirled so close. The missile struck the keyhole dead center. The lock rattled, and then dropped off as the cage door fell open. It hit the ground with a clang that echoed through the unnatural quiet that had fallen over the labyrinth like a pall.
The Selkie flopped out of the cage and waddled off into the maze at a speed Garlon would have thought impossible for a seal. Her terror-struck wails echoing after her.
“You are on your own now, fellow consort!” the centaur said, spinning on his hooves. “I will slow Analee. Do not lose sight of the seal. You will never find your way out of the maze if you do. She knows the way.”
“Hail and farewell!” Garlon called after the creature, for the centaur was already in motion, galloping back the way he had come.
Garlon turned back just in time to see her enter another break in the maze. Darting after her, he called her name, but her fright was such that she kept on waddling into the labyrinth.
“Anya, wait!” he called again.
But the little seal lumbered on, then made a turn and disappeared into another gate in the hedge. Garlon was certain she hadn’t even heard him. What torments had she suffered in that wretched cage to cause such a fright? He could only imagine.
Evidently, Mòhr was keeping his word and occupying Analee. But that couldn’t last. Garlon rushed to the spot where the seal had gone, but the arch had vanished.
Instead, he faced a whirl of wind, from which Analee emerged, her gossamer mantle billowed wide. He had never seen anything so beautiful, or so deadly. Her eyes were burning like live coals, and her hair fanned out about her on a wind she summoned.
“You may as well give it over,” she said. “You will never escape me. You don’t really want to. I can see the desire in your eyes, Knight of the Realm. You are my creature, and you will remain so until I tire of you.”
The pull of her lure was great, but the appeal of another was greater now. The little Selkie needed him, and every second counted. He had to find her before it was too late, before she disappeared in her fright, and he’d lost her forever.
“I took you at your word,” he said, “and I expected you to keep your part of the bargain. My wish was to be healed. I did not wish for you. You cannot keep me here against my will.”
Analee burst into laughter. “I can do what I will. This is my world.”
“Our time is over. Let me go!”
“Never!” Coming to him, she ran her hands up his chest. “Stay with me. I can make you forget…everything…”
Garlon had no doubt she could make a man forget all. But he steeled himself against her advances. Time was running out for him, and for the Selkie.
Analee stepped back and spread her gossamer mantle wide. You have only to come into my arms, Garlon Trivelyan,” she said. “Embrace me. Let me fold you in the gauze of forgetfulness, and your eternity with me will be a paradise beyond your wildest imagining.”
The mantle! What was she saying, that to let her cloak him in it with her would wipe his memory clean? His mind reeled back to when she’d first donned that garment. It was in the tournament tent. Why hadn’t she used it then? Could it be because she’d thought she could seduce him to her will without resorting to that tactic? And there was something else…for a time, she wore no mantle, but then, she suddenly was wearing it again.
Garlon backed away from her. “You will not entrap me with that!” he said. “I will never come to you of my own free will. I command you to set me free!”
The words were scarcely out, when a shaft of blinding white light speared down into the labyrinth. Garlon staggered back from the force, but was more surprised to see Analee cower against the hedge. A second blast of brilliant light struck, and from within it, the ethereal shadow, the shape of a woman, formed. She was robed in silver gauze. Could it be Annis herself? Had Analee finally brought the wrath of the goddess of all wells down upon her own head? The way Analee cringed in this strange deity’s presence, Garlon was certain of it.
The specter spoke not a word. Instead, she spread her arm wide, swirling the white light about Analee. In a blink they both were gone, vanished before Garlon’s very eyes.
“Go!” said the disembodied voice of Mòhr. “See the Selkie to safety. You both must be gone.”
Garlon turned in all directions, but there was no sign of the centaur. Spinning on his heels, he ran down one lane, then another. He had to find the Selkie, and take her home.
Three passages came to dead ends, but the fourth led into a mist that somehow seemed familiar. Yes. He remembered the willows. The well! He had come full circle? There, at the edge of the grove, alongside a whitethorn tree, bedecked with many strips of colored cloth. The little seal was perched at the edge, poised to dive into the water.
Her eyes wide with fright, she let loose a moan and dove, but so did Garlon, grabbing fast to her tail as she plunged headlong into the well. “There! I’ve got you!” he cried, triumphant, only to freeze in horror, for he didn’t have her. All he clutched in his hands was her soft, sleek sealskin.
The rest of her had disappeared beneath the dark, misty water in the well.