Eliza's Fancy (A Faery Romance Parts Two and Three)

By Zachary Harper

When Eliza wanders into an enchanted forest, she sees amidst the trees a Black Knight who steals her heart before riding off into the unknown distance. Pulled by this sudden love, she sets out to find him once again. Along the way, she meets fantastic friends and faces formidable foes in an adventure that delves into both the life-giving power and the dark-sided danger of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zachary Harper
• Release date: Feb 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458182906

Zachary Harper

Zachary Harper attended the University of Iowa, receiving degrees in Classical Chinese and Linguistics. Having studied Greek, Hebrew, and Chinese, he immersed himself in the faery tales and folk lore that fired the imaginations of the great early writers and served as the foundation of literature for thousands of years. Now he, too, draws from the well of the muses, writing parables and fables meant to both educate and entertain, hoping for nothing more than to inspire conversation on the ideas too complex to fit into anything other than simple stories.

Book preview

Eliza's Fancy

a faery romance

Parts Two and Three

Zachary Harper

Published by Zachary Harper

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Zachary Harper

Discover other titles by Zachary Harper at

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/zeharper

Cover art by Fifi Albatche

Eliza's Fancy

Part Two

Chapter X

Dearest Eliza!

Such dreams disturbed your fitful sleep

under a sky clouded by lurking mist

that hid the moon and covered the stars

and to the far horizon did curl and twist

eating the light and charring the sun,

as if even the heavens were too weak to resist.

She dreamed of a forest,

enormous in size,

filled with thousands of bright green pines

and a soft brown path on each side lined

by the boughs and branches as if outlined

by the very beauty with which nature shines,

a canopy formed by natures design.

She walked with little care and little worry

her golden hair unbound and shoes untied,

while all about her rabbits scurried

(and, sweet things, at her approach never shied!);

birds flitted o'erhead singing their songs

puffing their chests with innocent pride,

while deer gave her glances, quick and sidelong

and foxes watched her walk, heads cockeyed.

But between the trees floated dark whispers

from curl-lipped mouths and sneering tongues,

and when sound touched tree the bark would blister

as if it were by fire stung,

and the ground roiled and shifted underfoot,

made uneasy by air from evil lung,

aware of the dark deeds afoot

that in the breeze like a locust-plague hung.

Yet Eliza (sweet girl!) noticed not,

and walked and walked till the forest stopped

at the roots of a tree, dead yet still growing,

that with a coif of thick black leaves was topped.

It rose to the clouds above like a mountain,

foul and malevolent,

stained with hate,

covered with a sickly green lichen

that pulled down the branches with its ill weight;

its trunk seemed to stare as Eliza approached

as if it could hear her quiet feet fall

onto the ground that covered its roots

like a stale brown funeral pall.

She felt as if she had long been searching

for this very thing, this very place,

and though she saw its deathly visage

she curtsied to the tree with sweetest grace

and hung her cloak on its gnarled branch,

smiling with her sweetest face;

and sitting at its grisly trunk,

she rested in that iniquitous place.

As she lay there, the tree awoke

with red eyes as bright as fire

yet dark as coal,

and where Eliza sat, the dirt turned to mire

as the blackened branches began to unroll

and wrap their thin black tendrils around her,

twirling about her legs like a scroll,

all the while Eliza reclined

as the Daemon tree swallowed her whole.

Then her dream turned dark,

un-solid,

and the whispers from the forest grew,

and her dream was no longer filled with images,

but instead a wall of sound accrued

with shouting and screaming and rasping voices

of throats raw and unclean

and tongues rough and mean

from which only the vilest of thoughts spewed.

Over it all came a soothing voice

a seductive tone amidst the chaotic sound

that said

"Come, Eliza, to this wicked ground,

to where all your heart can be filled to full,

to where all your happiness can be surely found."

Chapter XI

Eliza woke to gentle rain

falling lonely drop by lonely drop,

the failing fire illuminating

a trail that led to the mountain-top

which couched the ghostly-pale castle walls

built from the mountains bright white rock.

A strange silence lay thick in the air,

a disturbing change from the screaming dream,

and Eliza felt a dark pit of fear

eating at her stomach like a limb with gangrene,

though no danger seemed imminent

it remained omnipresent, yet unseen.

Quenton huddled ‘neath his cloak

leaning ‘gainst his sturdy mule

softly singing in throaty voice

a song Eliza could not catch in full,

but snippets floated through the air,

the refrain of which her ears did pull.

"Up, up, up,

to where the air is soft and fine;

up, up, up,

flew the little butterfly;

up, up, up,

in search of dew-drop leaves in bright-colored trees;

up, up, up,

flew the butterfly on the breeze."

Deilos stirred in a bed of grass, now moist,

roused by Quenton’s dusty voice

and the pitter-patter of the lonely rain,

gathered his pack and stretched in cramp-ed pain,

then wiped at the fresh green grass-stains,

and said,

"Bless-ed travel has led us here

trouble-less and in good time;

but where spirits live lingers daemons wrath

(and we have not the suns comforting shine),

so carefully let us tread up the path

guarded as a dog and wary as a feline."

Thus, our four courageous