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Scene Forty Nine




All stand, or lie, in front of the white palace. Quicksilver looks bewildered as he rises from his knees. The Hunter smiles. Miranda advances.


“It is my fault, Father,” Miranda said. “I thought myself in love and disobeyed you.”

“No, my fault, mine,” Caliban said. “I loved her so much, that, for her sake, I did not reveal her encounters with the traitor elf. And, in seeking to save her, I allowed the centaurs to ensnare the mortal and the king.”

“It is my fault,” Will said. “For fear of magic did I refuse to think over it all till it was too late. And with my incautious temper did I rush here, where I was not needed and could only do harm.”

But the Hunter laughed, waved his hand and said. “Pardoned, the sorry lot of you.” Then, turning to the centaurs, he said. “And you, creatures?”

“We’re not guilty,” Hylas said, managing to stand. “Our race has been kept--”

“Not guilty?” the Hunter thundered. “How not? The oppression of your race, however great, could not have caused you to offer violence to my daughter.”

“It was the wine,” Chiron said.

“That he gave us,” Eurytion said, and pointed towards Caliban.

“Master--” Caliban started, squirming.

“It is my fault,” Quicksilver said. “So the guilt is mine. Mine and only--”

“Be still, O king,” the Hunter thundered. “I grow tired of your obsessive guilt.” With fierce brow he turned to the centaurs. “But you and that pool of iniquity--” he pointed at Proteus, "--you have committed crimes that naught can excuse.

“For your cold hearts and twisted souls, I call you guilty.”

On that word, the Hunter’s dogs rushed upon the centaurs, who, summoning their strength, scrambled and shambled away.

“Now, you,” the Hunter said, pointing at Proteus.

The net vanished and Proteus stood.

“You’ll be my dog, cur, for eternity,” the Hunter said.

“You’ll not win thus,” Proteus said, and, his body changing, fur growing upon it, loped in the direction of the pool in front of the magic castle, leaping into it. “I’ll burn myself and fairyland with me,” Proteus yelled.

Flame exploded.

Proteus's magic caught, and he burned like a living torch.

“Proteus,” Miranda yelled, feeling keenly the horror of the moment.

Beside her, her uncle screamed. 

In a flash, Miranda understood. 

Quicksilver, as King of fairyland, was still linked to Proteus, who was his subject and part of the hill magic. So when he burned, like a fuse, he’d set the whole hill aflame.

“Stop, Proteus,” she screamed and, throwing her own power between the two, knew she’d be consumed.

For she must stand between him and those she loved. She must save Hamnet and Will and Quicksilver.

She felt flame engulf her, burn her. She would stop existing.

But then the smell of dark forests surrounded her. The Hunter. Her father’s power, strong and icy, covered her, encased her.

She could see Proteus burn like a living candle, but it didn’t hurt her. Quicksilver looked unhurt and puzzled.

Quicksilver stared at Proteus who was all consumed. “How, how am I saved?”

“She saved you,” the Hunter said.

“And he saved me.” Miranda said, baffled. “My father saved me.” She turned uncomprehending eyes to the Hunter. “Father,” she said, then conscious of her unworthiness of such connection. “Sir, I am not worthy.”

The Hunter smiled and looked kindly. “None of you are worthy, nor am I. But each of us must do what fits the time.” He pointed to Quicksilver. “King, be both your halves and be not ashamed for that shall you more the king be, and less the fool.”

As he pointed, Quicksilver vanished, though as he did, as though a door opened around him, the people in the crux saw a lavish bedroom and a blonde woman who ran to embrace him.

“And you, Miranda, daughter, and you, Hamnet, my foster son,” the Hunter took Miranda’s hand in his cold one and, smiling, joined it with Hamnet’s warm one. 

“You have my blessing,” he said. He grinned at Hamnet. “And you, you’ve been a son to me, these long years. My daughter take of me, and make her happy.”

He grinned at them, a grin most inhuman. “Now is the riddle solved, and I have by this contrivance of bringing you all to the crux raised for my daughter a companion most worthy. Now shall I to my ancient occupations, and unlearn the cares of a human heart. Fare you well, and may you be blessed.”

With his wave, Miranda felt as though the ground had opened beneath her.

She struggled to regain balance and found herself, still holding Hamnet’s hand, in a sumptuous salon.

There Quicksilver stood, dressed, wearing a crown and wrapped in a cloak. He smiled at them. Beside him were the blonde woman and a serious-looking elf with dark hair and bright-green eyes.

“Ariel, Malachite,” Quicksilver said. “Here are my new son and daughter.”

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