Beyond the Iron Gate: The Lost Kingdom of Fallada, #0.5

Prologue

The excited chatter of children filled the courtyard surrounding Osbel tower, at the center of Goldun, floating city and home of the Fae of Fallada. The soft babble of water churned in the distance; the life force of the river that ran throughout Fallada and nourished the land. Trees stood tall and lush, crowding the landscape and offering its inhabitants shelter, as well as blocking them from the ugliness of the outside world.

Only beauty inhabited this place.

Chiming along to the tune of the river were the blossoms that covered long stretches of grass in blankets of stunning colors. As the wind tickled their petals, the flowers dipped and danced in the moonlight, their tinkling song like bells in the breeze. At the center of those flowers, golden pixies danced and frolicked, jumping from blossom to blossom, spreading their magical dust. The trees swayed and dipped in time to the song of the flowers, seeming to dance their own mystical waltz. Colorful birds swooped in and out of the branches, and the tiny creatures that lived in the trunks crawled in and out expectantly, watching as anxiously as the children for the appearance of the Faerie Queen.

This was a rare treat for the Fae, an evening beneath the stars with their beloved sovereign. The children were especially fond of these moments, where she gathered them around a large campfire beneath the trees and passed out her special fruit and nut concoction; a treat she carried in her basket, one that only she seemed to know how to prepare. The children would sit and chew expectantly as she told them one of the hundreds of stories she knew about the history of the great, enchanted realm of Fallada. Many of them had never set foot outside of Goldun, so her stories of creatures like Dwarves, Witches, Centaurs, Minotaurs, and shape shifters awed them.

They would be an exceptionally attentive audience tonight, as she was finally going to regale them with the tale of the blind Sorceress who wandered the moors just outside the western land of Mollac. Rumors of her abounded, and many were not even sure if she existed, but tonight they would have all of their questions answered, for Queen Adrah knew all and saw all, both past and present.

The sound of the Horn of Goldun announced her arrival; anyone who heard its blast knew what followed. The children clapped and cheered, rushing to the center of the courtyard as she appeared out of thin air in their midst, her silvery-blonde hair and pristine white garments flowing around her body as if they had a life of their own. The iridescent points of light within her sea-foam green eyes gave them a silvery shimmer, and the soft pink haze that seemed to envelope her and everything around her glowed softly.

She smiled and reached her arms out to the Fae children, hugging each and every one until all had had a turn. She was patient, as always, as she was kind.

Once every child was settled and waiting quietly, Adrah took her place on the steps of the courtyard and smiled down at her captive audience.

Good evening everyone, she said in a voice both melodic and strong. What tale would you like to hear tonight?

Many voices clamored to be heard, but it was to the little Fae girl tugging silently on her skirts that Adrah gave her attention.

Yes, little one?

Your Majesty, will you tell us the story of the blind Sorceress who lives on the moors?

Is this the tale you all wish to hear? Adrah addressed her audience. Heads bobbed silently while more voices confirmed their desire to hear the tale. The Faerie Queen nodded and ushered the child back to her place in the front row.

Very well, she said, her voice carrying easily over the courtyard. It is a tale that few know, but it is a part of our history, though a dark part it is. What do you know about the blind woman of the moors?

Some say that she is cursed! cried one voice from the back.

Others say she’s a Witch! said another.

I heard she was once one of the most beautiful girls in all of Fallada, another shouted.

She is a ghost!

She is dangerous!

She eats the souls of little children!

Adrah’s smile widened as she extended her arms, palms facing upward. A glowing white globe appeared in her hands, widening and expanding as she spoke.

There are many tales of the woman on the moors, none of which are completely true. Not many know the true tale, but you shall know it when this night has ended.

Adrah released her glowing sphere and stepped away from it, causing images to appear at its center with a wave of her hand.

Now, each of you know of the evil Queen of Mollac, Eranna, whose reign of terror has begun to cast a black darkness over the kingdom of Fallada.

Many nodded, while others shivered with fear as the image of the beautiful but deadly queen of Mollac appeared before them.

Everyone knows about how the wicked queen wished to rule supreme, not just over our world, but the world of men as well. Casting the seven princesses of Fallada out of reach so that she could rise to power without their interference was her greatest crime, one that we are presently working to rectify in order to restore peace to Fallada. Yet, many do not remember a time before Eranna’s treachery extended to every corner of our land, and do not know of the time when we coexisted with man peacefully. You would be surprised to know that the woman on the moors is not originally of our world. It is from the world of men that she belonged, and only by chance that she became entangled in the web weaved by Eranna’s evil deeds.

Adrah waved her hand again, replacing the image of the wicked queen with one of flat, green pastures, rolling hills, and the figure of a lone girl standing at the top of the highest mound. Wind swept through the trees from a sky dotted with fluffy white clouds, rustling her homespun dress around her legs and whipping impossibly long tendrils of hair around her face. The braid running down her back was thick and full, reaching her ankles. Sharp, violet eyes rimmed in golden lashes were shielded from the sun with a raised hand. Her skin was kissed by the sun, and her stature was long, lean, and muscled, like that of a girl who had done manual labor for most of her life. The wind left twin spots of red dotting her cheeks.

At the sight of the girl’s beauty, sighs and gasps rippled through those gathered. Could this be the witch woman who struck fear into the hearts of anyone who dared trespass upon the moors?

Yes, said Adrah as she reached her hand out fondly toward the image. That is she, the woman of the moors. She was once a great beauty, though only a human girl and possessing no mystical power. Her story begins in the year 1845, in a land called Ludlow in Shropshire, England. Her name was Zara...

Chapter One

Kathryn Wells tightened her hands around the dasher protruding from the hole in the lid of the butter churn, working it in the up and down motion her mother had taught her for turning cream into butter. Her back and arms were aching, but the mixture inside was thickening and the thought of sweet butter spread on her warm, homemade biscuits gave her the motivation to carry on. As she churned, her eyes swept the land surrounding the large farmhouse she shared with her husband and four children, grateful for all that the good Lord had blessed her family with.

Acres of prime pasture stretched as far as the eye could see, and she smiled as she caught sight of her twin sons, Charles and Murphy, bringing in the sheep. Their fluffy white wool was nearly ready for shearing, and others would be butchered for their meat. Shropshire sheep were known in England and abroad for their superior wool and meat, and her husband, Jacob, was one of the most successful herders in Ludlow.

Further out, her eldest son, Patrick, was plucking ripe apples from the orchard. They’ll make an excellent cider, she thought as she mulled over her menu for supper that evening.

On the side of the house was her modest vegetable garden, where she found her daughter, Zara, picking cabbage, tomatoes, and onions for the evening meal. Kathryn smiled as she always did when gazing upon her beautiful daughter. She’d endured much to bring her youngest child into the world, and it had been a pleasure to watch that pretty, golden haired baby grow into a lovely young woman.

Kathryn sighed as she churned, knowing the day was approaching when Zara would marry and have a family of her own. Patrick had already married, but had done his mother the great pleasure of bringing his wife into the Wells’ family farmhouse to live. Kathryn would have been pleased to have all her children, and their children, under her roof until the day she died. She loved her family and wanted them to remain together.

Yet, sadness always filled her at the thought of losing Zara to a husband. Her daughter was adventurous and impulsive. Unlike her other children, she would not be content with life on the family farm forever. Zara dreamed of living in another world altogether ... the enchanted kingdom that was just on the other side of Ludlow.

Kathryn had heard many stories of the land just on the other side of a wrought iron gate. Fallada was a dangerous place, full of creatures possessed of otherworldly powers. They could very easily use their superiority to rule over man, an idea that Kathryn saw as an inevitability. Someday, it was going to happen, and Kathryn trusted no one on that side of the gate.

Zara, however, dreamed of what lay on the other side. Kathryn often caught her standing on the highest hill in the pasture, gazing thoughtfully off into the distance, almost as if she could see into Fallada.

Kathryn shuddered at the thought. Only one member of her family had dared to venture into the enchanted world; she and Jacob had vowed between them never to speak of it to anyone. Kathryn wanted no one to know of the measures taken to ensure Zara’s safe delivery into the world.

Not that going into Fallada was forbidden. In fact, people came and went from the magical land all the time. There were also stories of those who had come from the other side, rare sightings of those who were curious enough about the human world to come pay it a visit. But Kathryn knew that if anyone was told of the mystical rampion plant she had consumed during her pregnancy, they might tell Zara about it. It would give her even more reason to want to visit the other side of the gate, and Kathryn wished to avoid that at all costs.

The girl looked up to meet her gaze just then and smiled. Her stunning eyes crinkled as she lifted her hand to wave. Those eyes enraptured anyone who had the privilege of staring into them, as they were not quite blue. Kathryn always wondered if the rampion that had given Zara the unusual violet hue to her eyes. They often stopped people dead in their tracks as they tried to figure out whether Zara’s eyes were truly the same color as the blooms that grew wildly along the roads in the village.

All done, Zara said cheerfully as she stepped up onto the porch, a basket full of produce balanced on her hip. After I wash these, could I go for a ride to the village? I promise to be home in time for supper.

Kathryn considered this for a moment as Zara pushed a heavy strand of wheat-colored hair out of her face—another side effect of the rampion for sure, as the golden tresses flowed down past her ankles and beyond when unbraided.

Fine, but only if you also peel the potatoes for the stew first, she said, hoping that the time it took to peel potatoes would lessen the amount of time Zara had to roam freely along the edge of Ludlow.

Kathryn had always feared that someday Zara would leave the farm on that mare of hers and never return.

Zara rushed to the barn and threw open the doors, her barely-laced riding boots pounding up dust as she