Otherworld Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Wastelands was a dark place. The land was dead; trees were blackened if by fire. This dead forest was the only thing separating the Everstar Castle, and the marshes. Within the marshes were those of the dead, dead Faeries and dead Faerox. A battle had been waged here, and had been forgotten. Beyond the marshes was a looming, dark mountain, where the Faerox reside. The spider people were rumored to have been like the Faeries once, but who or how they changed had been forgotten, even the Faerox themselves have forgotten how they came to be.
Within the Wastelands, there are creatures, besides the Faerox that roam the dead forest and the marshes. Boggarts and Hobgoblins made their territories, while Banshees haunted the dead forest.
The boggarts varied, as much as humans. Some had long lizard-like heads, with bird like hands and feet, some with antler-like horns and some without. Others looked almost bull like, horns and all, with webbed hands and feet, their arms nearly as long as their bodies, with six fingers on each hand. Some even looked human, zombie-like. Gray-brown skin, lower teeth over lapping their line and chapped upper lips. Their hands and feet were large, and their knuckles dragged upon the ground, their nails orange. They had beady yellow eyes with pointed, almost bat-like ears and hairless.
The hobgoblins were less diverse. They are larger, stronger, smarter and more menacing form of goblins. Their bodies are covered in coarse fur with red-brown or gray skin, and yellow or dark brown eyes. Hobgoblins prefer blood-red clothes with black-tinted leather.
Banshees are beautiful female spirits that have been seen in the human world, their keening usually signifies the death of a family member. They wear long white gowns, humans having claimed they are covered in blood. Their hair is long, black and flowing.
The inhabitants of the Wastelands were as diverse and many as the Faerie lands.

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Spindlein walked along the hall of her mountain palace. Her black dress flowed along her feet, sweeping across the floor, and floating around her like it was made of feathers. It cupped her full breasts, with sleeves that covered her shoulders. Her hair was as black as her dress, with a single piece of blood red hair that hung over her right shoulder. Her eyes were red, and glowed in the darkness. Around her neck was a ruby pendant that was in the shape of a spider. Her skin was pale, but not grey as the rest of her people, her nails were long and painted blood red, and set a top her head was a crown of thorns, that twisted and contorted and make to look like she had a set of horns. At her feet a pair of boggarts trailed along beside her, like ever present shadows, or demented pets.
“Has anyone found him yet?” She asked, as she continued to stare straight ahead.
“Yes mistress,” someone within the shadows answered. The boggarts looked over their shoulders, as if looking for the owner of the voice. “He is in the upper chambers.”
“The upper chambers?” Spindlein asked sounding surprised. “What the hell is he doing up there?”
“I don’t know my lady,” the voice answered again.
“I wasn’t talking to you!” she snapped, waving her hand outward as if striking someone across the face. “Leave! I will see to my son alone.” She paused long enough to look down at the boggarts at her feet. “That goes for you two as well.” She growled, before kicking them away from her. They scattered like the wind, whining as they disappeared into the shadows.

Amiri leaned against the wall beside a window, looking out over the Wasteland, the faerie castle sitting beyond the dead forest, gloating at him. His hair was black, with blue undertones. His eyes were the colour of rubies, and his skin was pale, and he had painted black nails. He was tall, wearing black leather pants that molded to him like a second skin. He wore a black cotton tunic, with leather ties that currently were undone, leaving the top of the shirt to display an expanse of skin. When his mother entered the chamber, he barely batted an eyelash.
“Been outside again?” Spindlein asked.
“Yes,” Amiri answered his voice flat. His window was simply a hole in the mountain that let the sun into the room.
“You know I don’t like you going out there,” Spindlein answered.
“I’m not sorry,” Amiri answered.
“Just like I raised you,” She answered, walking up beside him, staring out at the bright sunlight, nearly blinded. “But what if one of those Faeries saw you? Some of the younger ones are getting brave, coming into our territory to pick fights with boggarts or hobgoblins.”
“I’m not worried mother,” Amiri answered, trying to hide his annoyance.
Spindlein breathed in deeply, and glared at her son a moment, crossing her arms under her breasts. Her son was a good foot taller than her. As she continued to stare at her son, the more she saw the young mans father. “You look so much like your father.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“I loved your father,” Spindlein replied. “Its not an insult.”
“I never said it was.”
“What has you so distracted Amiri?” Spindlen asked, frowning.
Amiri looked down at his mother, his face passive. “I’m just thinking.” He looked back out the window, frowning. “I’m getting tired of that castle, and how it goads us. I’m tired of living under ground, and being blinded by the sun. Who says that we cannot be in the sun as well? Why do we have to survive in the Wastelands? I say we should live out there, and out of this mountain. Don’t you agree mother?”
Pride suddenly welled within Spindlein’s breast. She’d heard much the same thing from the man that she loved. As her son grew older, the more she saw Kumar, the man that brought her into this world, within Amiri’s face.
“Do it, my son.” Spindlein, sighed softly. “You have my support Amiri. Fulfill your father’s dream. Bring us out of the darkness and into the light. If anyone could do it, it would be you.”
Amiri, looked down at his mother once again, surprised that she was for such a thing. A wide smile spread across his face. He turned his body towards his mother, and gripped her shoulders. “Would you allow me into father’s war room then?”
“Yes. I will have the spell lifted so you can enter within.”
“Thank you.” Amiri replied, kissed his mothers forehead and left the chamber, leaving the Queen alone in the chamber.
She stepped towards the window, and looked out towards Everstar Castle. She would never forgive the Faerie king for killing the one she loved. She would kill his wife before his eyes and then she’d kill him. “Oh Kumar. I wish you could see your son and the man he has become. I hope I raised him the way that you wanted. He’s a Faerox that would make you proud.”

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Amiri quickly left the upper chamber. The chamber itself wasn’t important; just a room that they used to filter light down into the bowls of the mountain. The mirror system was a simple one, and paired with the Fay Magic, Amiri’s mountain home was lit well enough. Kumar had it installed for Spindlein, as a form of comfort, since the idea of being buried by a mountain, unsettled her.
As he made his way down to the bowels of the mountain, his aim being his father’s war room. The filtered sunlight didn’t reach this far into the mountain, since his mother wasn’t allowed into the lower levels. Down there, in the complete darkness, was where the nightmares were birthed. It was also where the large oak door was located. It took up the entire of a stonewall, and beyond the door was the war room.
Amiri stood before the door, the gold hinges, glinted against the firelight. Normally when he got this close to the doors, they burned purple; a warning that a spell was upon the door. Now, there was nothing; his mother had done well on her word. It was a very human trait to be true to your word, but Amiri wouldn’t hold it against the woman that gave him birth. Without it, he would not be able to enter. Amiri pushed one of the two doors open.
The room was large, and circular. There was a deep fire pit in the center of the room. Amiri only knew this from memory, having seen this room once before, when he was young.
‘This will be yours one day Amiri.’ Kumar had whispered. Amiri could remember how the sound, had been able to echo against the walls.
Amiri walked further into the room, filling his lungs with the smell of leather, sweat, and a freshly doused fire. The scent of the burning wood seemed fresh, almost as if his father had just doused the flames. The leather of the chairs and the books underlined the smell of the smoke. The sweat reminded Amiri of his father, and the Faerox generals that had been part of Kumar’s army. It won’t be long until those same generals would be gathered within the war room again.
With a wave of his hand, Amiri lit the large fire pit; the light filled the room, chasing away the shadows. Maps lined the walls, while tapestries depicted battles and pieces of history that Amiri didn’t recognize. Many of the colours were faded. Between the large maps were bookshelves, filled with leather-bound books, scrolls, with dried inkwells and writing quills and blank parchment. There were a number of weapons liked the walls, between the maps and the tapestries. Cobwebs and dust filled every available space, showing just how long the room had been locked away.
Everything that Amiri needed was here. His father’s plans were tucked away in this room somewhere. It needed to be cleaned, and he’d probably get one of the boggarts to clean the room. As Amiri looked around the room, he remembered something his father had once told him. ‘Many of these books, holds the history of the humans. The Faerie kind holds our history. The reasons why we are here and why we are now known as the Faerox. That history is the prize, not the lands. Remember that Amiri.’
Oh he remembered. He would do his fathers proud, and take over the Faerie Realm; send the Faeries to the Wastelands! Once again, his mother would be allowed within the sunlight, and he’d be able to walk where he wished without fear of some Faerie wanting to take a pock shot at him. Yes, he could see the future that he sought after and he would have it, or die trying.

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Wyatt looked over his shoulders, as he stepped from his room. His father disapproved of joining the Faerie Fyre. It was something that Van had introduced him too years ago, before he understood the implications of being the crowned prince. Not that Wyatt really cared then, or even now. Wyatt was hooked and Van was his enabler.
Seeing the way was clear, Wyatt made a mad dash down the hall, towards the grand hall. The fire in the grand hearth was a soft glow the fires nearly snuffed. Wyatt paused, and looked around. His father was known to sit within the grand hall, and have some drinks before retiring to bed. Again, the coast was clear.

As Wyatt slipped out the front doors of the castle, Van stepped out from the shadows of the castle walls. Van waved him on, and Wyatt ran forward, half-tackling his friend back into the shadows, laughing.
“Lets go! The fire is already started,” Van whispered fiercely, turning for the front gates.
“Everyone is asleep, lets just fly from here,” Wyatt whispered back, taking a leap into the air, pausing just long enough for Van to join him.
In the distance there was a large bon fire, with figures dancing around it, their shadows. Sparks of magic shot into the sky, with a bang, and exploded like fireworks, followed by hoots and hollers of laughter. Van and Wyatt grinned at each other before taking off towards the fire.