On the throne sat something like a man. Corin had expected the friendly, timeworn face he’d seen carved into the cliff. Instead, he saw a monster out of nightmares. Taller even than the elven lords and ladies, the king had the fur-clad legs of a goat. His bare chest boasted a thick mane of red-brown hair. It bristled in his beard as well, and covered his crown in thick curls. Around his brow he wore a wreath of lily blossoms, and from his temples jutted two great antlers.
Courtiers by the hundreds surrounded him, a vast sea of beautiful creatures dressed in all the shades of a flower’s petals. Ripples ran among them, whorls and eddies as they spoke among themselves or paid their tributes to the king, but clearly they were here above all else just to be here. To see and to be seen in such proximity to the king.
The king himself paid them no mind at all. He lounged within his living throne, staring out across the broad expanse beneath the oak tree’s limbs. From half a hundred paces distant, his eyes fixed on the four newly arrived, and he started to his feet.
“What is this?” he boomed, a gleeful anger in his tone. “I see the son of Kellen Strong upon my threshold. And a pair of wilting Violets! And they have brought a manling. Bring them here to me!”
At his words, two hundred courtiers turned at once toward the place where Corin stood. Lords in flowing robes and ladies with flowers in their hair surged forward like an ocean swell. They crashed around the newcomers and raised a frothy babble among themselves, asking senseless questions or conjecturing what might have brought a Kellen and a pair of Violets together.
Corin rode the wave, anxious just to stay afloat, but nothing in his life had prepared him for this. He would scarce have been at home in the court at Aerome—or even at the Vestossis’ supper table—but he liked to think he could have found his way. This, though…this was not a stately gathering of posh buffoons.
It wasn’t even what he’d come to expect of the elves—condescending lords and ladies sullying their dignity to interact with a mere manling. No, these were fairies from the stories of old. They were dreamlike chaos, animal frenzy playing at humanity. They giggled and hissed, they ogled and jeered as they chivied Corin and his three companions toward the throne of Oberon.
Corin cast for a plan. He’d told Kellen to come warn the king, but he had not expected such a crowd. It would be dangerous to denounce Ephitel before this throng. He would need a private audience. But staring at the creature on the throne, Corin wasn’t certain he could handle that.
Strong hands propelled him until at last, a dozen paces from the throne, the courtiers suddenly withdrew. The four companions stood alone, hemmed on one side by hundreds of courtiers and on the other by the beastly Oberon.
The king surged to his hoofed feet, towering twice as tall as a man. His eyes danced, manic, and his words came out wrapped within a giggle. “Kellen, son of Kellen. I was told that you were buried.”
The yeoman fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to the mossy turf. The ring of courtiers snickered, but Kellen paid them no mind. “Your Majesty, I have betrayed my command, but only out of loyalty to you.”
“Ha! Ho! How so?” The king spoke in a lilting chant, but it ended with a snarl. “Your command is mine. I am your lord. You cannot obey by disobedience!”
Corin stepped forward before Kellen could say anything more. “Please, King Oberon, we would have a private audience. It is of matters most severe and delicate.”
“Ooh. That does sound painful. But I’ve never known a private audience. One does require ears to hear.”
For a moment, Corin could only gape. This was wise king Oberon? This was their noble creator? He seemed more like a madman. But this strange beast was Corin’s only way home. If he would not allow a private hearing, let it be a public one.
“I have come to beg your aid,” he said. “Only your magic might send me home.”
“But who are you to speak to me?” Oberon asked, condescending. “Who are you to ask me anything?”
“I am your humble servant,” Corin said. “And I bring you news well worth the boon I ask.”
Oberon frowned. “What news is this?”
“Grim news, Your Majesty. The lord protector betrays