Beyond the Gateway (Cranksepticeye)

Twenty-two

"Herne was a mortal. A prince in the world of a very long time ago . . ."
Ethan's voice echoing all around, Jack bend low over his mount's neck as the horse pounded through the trees and out into a wide-open clearing in the forest. As their horses cantered to a stop, he saw that they had become part of a hunting party, magnificently dressed and richly outfitted.
Jack felt the rustle of silk and, looking down, saw that he was clothed in a russet cape that draped behind him, trailing over his horse's back. The hems of his sleeves and pant legs were heavy with gold-hued seed pearls and amber. He looked at Ethan, who was clothed in a flowing, laced shirt and supple leather breeches and boots. Silver flashed at his wrists and throat as he leaned from his saddle, reaching for the reins of Jack's horse. He pulled them both to a stop at the fringes of the hunting party.
The rest of the hunters dismounted amid much laughter and merriment. Jack stared in open amazement at them, realizing with a start that they were not human. Like clouds of brilliant butterflies, they shimmered and shone in the dappled sunlight. Some even bore the delicate traces of jewl-bright wings unfurling behind them.
Ethan chuckled at his expression as he swung a leg over his mount's flank and dropped lightly to the ground. He reached up to help Jack do the same, steading him as his feet touched down on the mossy sward. He looked into Ethan's eyes and saw the wonder in his own reflected back at him.
"How . . . ," he began, but turned at the sound of a deep, booming laughter. It came from a tall, handsome man clothed in deep green and bearing the horns of a king stag on his bright helmet.
"That is Herne the Hunter," Ethan murmured in a low voice shaded with reverence. "The Faerie Folk call him the Horned One."
"I thought you said Herne was mortal," Jack whispered back.
"He is . . . at least, he was. At this point in his life."
Jack understood then that somehow Ethan had conjured up a vision from Herne's life, when the Hunter's had been a prince. "And the Faerie didn't - didn't - have a problem hanging out with him?"
Ethan smiled at his choice of words. "Faerie and mortal used to . . . 'hang out' together quite a lot. In the days before mortals grew fearful."
Isn't that because the Faerie grew frightening? Jack thought as Ethan took him by the hand, leading him toward the center of the meadow, where fine tables laden with a fantastic banquet stood.
"Can they see us?" Jack asked as they passed among the Faerie.
"No." Ethan shook his head. "They do not see us as we are - because we're not really here. They probably see us as companions of that long-ago day."
"How are you-"
"Magick. Auberon taught me small things - party tricks, compared with what Faerie can do - when I was a boy." He shrugged. "Things like conjuring visions. I had a certain aptitude for it, although, I confess, I've never really tried anything this complicated before. Now come . . . let's at least enjoy our time here while we still can. This is not a story with a happy ending."
About to ask him what he meant, Jack's breath caught in his throat at what he saw next.
How, Jack thought, could anything possibly go awry when the world has such creatures in it?
"Mabh!" Herne shouted in a joyous greeting, his voice filled with unmistakable warmth of his feelings for the woman, flame haired and fantastically beautiful, who stepped out from beneath the shadows of the trees. "My Queen! My love . . . "
Jack had never seen anyone with such fierce grace and majesty as the Faerie queen of the Autumn Court. Mabh was like all the poignant glory of the fall season distilled into a single being. She lifted her arms in welcome to the Horned One, and her smile filled the grove like sunshine.

Jack forgot Ethan's foreboding words. In fact, he forgot almost everything - he almost forgot that he'd ever had another life. - as day upon day passed blissfully in feasting and hunting and song. At night, Herne and his companions, Ethan and Jack among them, would lie on richly woven blankets under the stars, listening to the crackle of the bonfires and the strange, beautiful music of the Fae. By day, they would ride through the forests at great, reckless speed, whooping and laughing in sheer delight.
It seemed to Jack that time passed and, yet, time stood absolutely still.
Then came the day when Mabh, clothed in a midnight hued gown and smiling a secret smile, bent to kiss the Hunter Prince's brow as he lay on the mossy bank of a spring pool, his head in her lap, smiling up at her. All about them, the glittering coterie of Faerie royalty - Herne's hunting companions - lounged indolently, watching with idle amusement as the Faerie queen laughed and rose to her feet. With movements so graceful she seemed almost to dance, Mabh circled the pool. Lifting her voice in a chant of power, she pulled forth handfuls of glistening ocean-blue beads from hidden pockets in the folds of her skirts.
Propped up on one elbow, Ethan went stiff with tension, and Jack suddenly remembered what Ethan told him about this tale not ending well.
Her blue eyes sparkling, Mabh held both hands over the surface of the pool and, opening her fists, let fall the jewels into the spring. The surface of the water rippled and then boiled, foaming white and hissing steam. Rising to his feet and straining to see, Jack glimpsed something moving in the inky depths.
A kelpie emerged from the spring, called forth by the chant of the Darkling Queen. Jack glanced down at Ethan, speechless with apprehension, as Mabh cast her spell, enchanting the water spirit with her tailsmans, changing it with her magicks into a spirit of fire.
Ethan rose and watched with Jack as the creature writhed and whinnied and blurred like smoke, transforming from something that closely resembled the sweet-tempered animal back home in his apartment into a ferociously beautiful creature - a stallion with a coat as red as a sunset, and fiery, flashing hooves.
"My Queen," protested one of the Faerie hunters uneasily. "This is an impossibility! It should be-"
Mabh silenced him with a look.
Approaching her, Hernes eyes lit with joy at the sight of his lovers extravagant gift. The Hunter vaulted onto the back of the magnificent roan stallion. Mabh threw her arms into the air and laughed with an almost girlish delight as, together, the Hunter and his horse leaped into the sky, galloping swiftly over the treetops. In the forest glade there was a flashing blur of motion - like the beating of black wings - and Mabh disappeared. In her stead, a raven flashed through the spaces between the trees, following in the wake of the Horned One and his steed.
"This is unheard of," murmured the Fae who had uttered the protest. "To bestow a gift of such extravagant and dangerous magick upon a mortal . . . "
"Mabh is besotted," said the Faerie beside him, shaking her head.
"Oh, come! The Horned One is no mere mortal," said another, laughing as he mounted his own horse, hurrying to follow in Herne's wake.
Most of the other Faerie seemed to agree and, in a flurry of activity, swept forward to join in the merry chase of their mortal companion and his new prize. Caught up in the excitement and not wanting to miss a moment of the story, Jack ran for his own horse, Ethan at his heels.
The party galloped in pursuit of the Hunter. As the woods opened up into a wide expanse of rolling downs, all of the Faerie mounts leaped into the sky, their hooves pounding the air above the  treetops as they took flight.
His heart in his mouth, Jack gripped the reins, white-knuckled, and hazarded a glance left and right. On either side of him, Herne's hunters rode, starry-eyed and ethereal in their beauty, with excitement-flushed cheeks, streaming hair, and expressions uniform in their fierce elation. Jack had never seen anything so glorious, never done anything so exciting as ride through the skies with that shining host.