Page 56 of Search for the Lost

Someone slammed the trunk shut with a hurried and obsequious apology, plunging him into darkness. He sat down and wrapped his arms around his knees.

In moments, the carriage was on its way. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the edges of the trunk hatch, Crispin settled down on a folded blanket in the semi-darkness to wait. Soon the steady bouncing of the carriage lulled him to sleep.

He dreamt of giant cats and rats, chasing themselves around the Queen’s garden while he trembled and hid behind a man-high red-and-white-polkadot toadstool.

Hours—or maybe just minutes—later, the carriage finally rumbled to a halt, suitcases and boxes shuddering all around him and startling him awake. Crispin sat up and rubbed his eyes, wondering if this whole adventure had been a bad idea. The last time he’d followed his intuition, the Red Door had nearly killed him. His stomach rumbled, chiming in that it was hungry and wouldn’t it be a nice idea to feed it something? He sighed. I should have just stayed home.

And yet, being home and attending to his studies, day after sameful day, was so deadly boring.

A moment later the trunk hatch opened, the bright light temporarily blinding him.

“Your highness, we have a problem.” Harlan, his mother’s goblin valet and driver, with skin as green as a grape, stared down at him like the Jolly Green Giant. Who, if you actually knew him, was grumpy and kind of yellowish most of the time.

“Did the luggage shift again? I told you to secure it—” His mother’s voice came up short as she rounded the carriage and saw the nature of the problem. “Crispin! What in the High Solstice are you doing in there?”

Crispin cringed, expecting anger. But she seemed merely curious. Well, maybe a little annoyed. “I wanted to know where you go on your Dark Day.” Truth was usually best with the Queen of All Fae.

His Mother frowned, the expression making her even more beautiful, and put her hands on her elegant hips. “Then you should have just asked. Get out of there.”

There it is. Crispin shuddered. She was gigantic, at least compared to his current stature, which somehow magnified her displeasure and made her even more terrifying than usual. “Yes, mum.” He squeezed between a padlocked cedar chest and two velvet-covered wine-red suitcases, and reached up to the lip of the trunk. Pulling himself up, he climbed over the edge.

His body shifted back to normal size, throwing him off balance and creating a hard landing on the cobblestones at her feet, knocking the wind out of him. “Ouch!” he gasped, wheezing for breath.

He sat up, panting as he tried to recover, aware what a loser he must appear in front of the Queen of the Fae and her servant. At last his lungs opened up with a great intake of air, and his panic subsided.

He rubbed his now-sore back and looked around.

They were in a quaint little village, filled with buildings made of wood and stucco. The wood was painted brown, making pleasing geometric shapes over the stucco, which was painted a different color on each building’s edifice. The roofs were steeply peaked and capped with red tiles. “What is this place?”

Harlan reached down to help him up, the goblin’s rough brown shirtsleeves brushing against Crispin’s bare skin. “This, me boy, is Ende der Welt, the End of the World. The last town before the Black Forest.” He shivered.

“Black Forest?”

In response, the valet pointed down the road, past the carriage.

About a hundred meters away, the cobblestones ended at a bleak wood, its dark trunks crowded so closely together that they formed a nearly impenetrable wall.

Crispin could feel something watching him from among those dark branches, a malevolent force that felt ancient, older than the land itself. Something howled, a sound so frightening he could practically feel the blood curdle in his veins. He turned away quickly, the sensation of being watched making his skin crawl. “So why are we here?”

His mother shook her head. “I’m here for some well-earned time away from the Court and my royal duties. As to why you’re here….” The Queen of the Fae sighed, managing to put all the disappointments of his long childhood into that one unhappy sound. “I suppose there’s nothing to do for it. You’ll stay the night with me”—she gestured at the nearby establishment, its neatly painted sign reading Koniglichen Titten—“and then I’ll send you home on the bahn-bahn in the morning. Harlan, get this luggage sorted, would you?”

“Yes mum.” The goblin bowed and took the first of the suitcases out of the trunk, scurrying toward the entrance of the inn.

“Lady Cerillia, so pleased to see you again.”

Crispin spun around to see the newcomer: tall and handsome, wearing black tights, a white tunic, and a black tabard emblazoned with a bright yellow family crest that included a stylized lion. But it was his piercing blue eyes, shaggy blond hair, and charismatic smile that arrested Crispin’s gaze.

“And who is this fine fellow?” The man brought the full force of his gaze to bear on Crispin, whose throat went suddenly dry.

“Oark…,” he croaked, cursing himself for being so affected by the man’s good looks.

“This is my younger son, Crispin Eladrin Moss’caladin, my… unexpected guest.” His mother sounded almost proud of the fact, but Crispin didn’t have time to process that.

“Welcome, unexpected guest. I’m Dietrich von Bern, your mother’s able guide through the Black Forest, among a million other things.” He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Crispin shook it, familiar with the custom. Dietrich’s grip was warm and strong. “Nice… nice to meet you,” he managed.

The man winked at him. “So nice to make the acquaintance of such a handsome fae.”