The Faeries of Dulwich Woods

Chapter 3 - All Rise

Giddy and slightly nauseous, Avery opened her eyes with infinitesimal slowness and promptly reeled with shock at the sight that confronted her. She knew exactly where she was; at the bottom of a slope before an immense cedar of Lebanon, a well-known landmark in one of the larger glades in the woods. Yet somehow the colours of the plants and trees surrounding her were strangely altered, and the very spot where she stood was unnervingly different. Instead of a circular hollow of solid clay (where the local kids built tepees out of dry sticks and leafy branches), she was standing on a square, stone pillar in the centre of a translucent pond. No moonshine or starlight could be seen through the dense forest canopy, but the darkness was lit by silver lanterns that hung from the branches of the surrounding trees and the forest floor was scattered with fat, purplish toadstools that radiated with a gentle glow. White, star-like anemones clustered thickly about the foot of the mighty tree and a huge bindweed coiled and twisted around its trunk, spangled with open-faced saucers of silvery blooms.

The giant cedar glowed in the silvery light, and with a sharp intake of breath, Avery realised that two figures were seated within its lofty branches. The first was a lady of Asian appearance with silver, almond eyes, high cheekbones and a waterfall of straight, black hair, adorned with a scattering of translucent moonstones. On her head was an intricate, golden circlet with a tear-drop gem that was perfectly suspended in the centre of her brow. She wore a long silvery-green gown, trimmed with gold embroidery and her pale feet were bare. She sat upon a white-flowered throne formed from the rope-like coils of the bindweed and in one hand she held a golden orb, circled with moonstones and topped with a golden acorn. Beside her on an identical throne of flowers and foliage was the man who had just spoken. A diadem of golden oak leaves with a large, central moonstone rested on his closely cropped afro. He wore a sleeveless vest of delicate, golden, chain mail over a green tunic decorated with golden ivy leaves, and his dark-brown feet were also bare. In his right hand, he held a long, golden sceptre topped with a large, acorn finial. The two warriors, Helori and Caradoc looked martial as they stood to attention on either side of the cedar (although Turaysh's infant child still lay in the crook of Lord Caradoc's arm). The large crow, Bran, rested quietly at Helori's feet. Seated between Helori and Caradoc were two old men with wildly ostentatious beards and a South Asian woman with snowy-white hair that fell to the ground and draped around her legs. All three wore close-fitting, grey skullcaps, and long, white cassocks, overlaid with grey tunics that were richly embroidered with silver. The otherworldly trio held long staves of white birch-wood topped with a crystal stone. Avery rubbed her eyes, then peered through her fingers at the impossible scene.

'This is madness,' she whispered to herself, 'This isn't happening. This is a dream; that's the only explanation. Either that or I've gone stark, staring mad. That's it! The whole day has been one long, crazy dream. I. Am. Dreaming.'

As she looked around wildly, she saw that the wide clearing was thronged with all manner of weird and peculiar folk, varying in appearance from the comical to the downright terrifying. There was a group of short, brown, wrinkle-faced men clad in crudely stitched leather jerkins. Tiny sprites in gossamer tunics flitted from tree to tree on incredible, dragonfly wings. A gaggle of creatures to her left resembled the fat-bellied trolls from childhood nursery rhymes, yet others behind them looked just like medieval courtiers in their fine velvets and furs; they could almost be human save for the tapering points of their ears and the wildness that flickered in their beautiful eyes. At the rear of the glade where the dark was thickest a small assembly of immensely tall people was gathered. They were constantly in motion, swaying and bending from side to side and waving their branch-like arms, their leafy hair rippling and fluttering as if tossed by a constant, gentle breeze. Staring from side to side in alarm, Avery saw strangely shaped goodwives holding plump, little children with butterfly wings. There were gnarled old gaffers, their bodies hidden beneath super-abundant facial hair and there were fierce warrior maidens and handsome archers bristling with weaponry. She became slowly aware of an insistent, buzzing noise and found that there was a swarm of black and yellow bumblebees circling around her knees. Looking closely, she saw that each bee was being ridden by a minuscule, armoured knight, each with a tiny silver lance, like a curious bee cavalry. In the depths of Avery's shock and distress, she found herself strangely disarmed by these diminutive soldiers and their fuzzy mounts.