The Man from Umbra

As told by Niles Kal’oon

Deep inside the darkest parts of the Fel woods, there sits on a throne of gloom and nightmare, draped in moonlight from an eclipse, the Man from Umbra, the Unseelie King of Shadows. From his throne, he commands the shadow fey who haunt the dreams of the kinder folk and feast on the horrors of the world. The Man from Umbra always hungers.
His hunger is as legendary as he is old, with his ancient spindly frame that towers over all the Fey creaking in the moonlight as he reaches out towards the dreaming places to scoop up nightmares and suck the marrow from them. His eyes, so white that they are almost blue in their translucence, stare unseeingly into the darkness that he so loves and peers into the places where the seeing cannot. His bleak black locks drape in front of his eyes like hundreds of strands of spider's legs, streaks of scarlet intermixed with them like blood dyeing them to match the shade of his lips. Lips, so red and full that they are horrible and unearthly when placed against the purplish, bruised, dark-elven skin of his horrid face. All of this hides in the folds of his cloak that take in the light as hungrily as its master devours dreams, dispensing in its place shadows and smoke.
When he grows tired of sitting on his throne and giving cause and reason to his many subjects, the Unseelie king will pull himself on groaning bones to his feet and begin to make his way through the Fel, looking for amusement in the lives of those unfortunate creatures caught in his webs. He will walk until he finds a source of food, whether it be a noble lord who has ridden too close to the fey’s domain or retched peasant who has made the last mistake. When he has them, he will turn them over in his massive claw like hands until he has unraveled them to their very essence and feast.
The Umbran king was not amused by adventurers or the heroes that would be sent against him. He thought of them only as food to be devoured. These were the kinds of things he thought of when he met Octavi Greer. The hero had made their way through the thousands of fey that stood between the Unseelie King and the outer courts, and demanded an audience. The Man from Umbra naturally obliged and invited the hero into his lair.
A good host that he was, he first asked for the hero's name and they replied, “I have known a great many Fey, your Unseelieness. And I have known their ruses and their tricks. You may not have my name, but if you would like to know what it is, I will tell you.”
With a cracking of his knuckles that rang out as an echo of themselves, the Unseelie King smiled and laughed a throaty, humorless chuckle. “But of course, little mortal. That was of course my mistake. What is your name, so that I may speak to you freely.”
“They call me Greer, those that speak of me. But my true name shall stay with me, of Great Unseelie Lord. For one cannot be too careful with a Fey.”
“Of course, of course.” The Man from Umbra retorted as he lowered himself into his throne and snapped his claws to draw out the poltergeists and shadows to bring his guest tea. “That is only proper. I should hope I will have your forgiveness?”
“You are forgiven, oh Unseelie One, but you may not have all my forgiveness, I’m sorry to say, for I shall need that for others.”
“Naturally, naturally.” The thrice thwarted King mumbles as the shadows poor the tea for his guest and then himself. “Then what is your cause for being here? Might I have it, so I may assist you?”
“You may not have my cause, My King of Shadows, but I shall tell it to you if you insist. My mission is to bind you to this place so that you cannot harm any of my kin again.” Said the Hero, drinking their tea.
“Ah. A plot of revenge. How marvelous. I should hope that you have not been very put out by the experience.”
“Of course not, Lord Umbran, the travel was invigorating and educational. I should hope that you are not concerned as to abilities as a host!”
The Umbran King bristled, for like all Fey he was fiercely proud of his skills as a host and a lord. To have a guest question it was a most inglorious insult. But the Greer was smart and did not directly insult the King, instead putting the onus on him to insult himself in his response. “I am glad that everything has been to your liking. Perhaps you should give me the location you are from?”
“Sadly I cannot, my Lord Fey, as I do not own it. But if you would like to know where I call home, it is a small city named for the children of the Fel, the elf. My village is quaint, and resides within the Fel, in a clearing your children have made for the mortals that they have learned to love and they have called it Elflora.”
“Fascinating. Fascinating. A wonderful place. But you say your cause is to bind me? And how, do you plan to do that?”
“A simple gift of silver thread, bound to your ankle and tied to your throne. It is well known that a Fey, once bound in silver threads cannot escape it.”
“I see, I see. And everyone knows of this weakness among the fey? A power so great that even the Kings and Queens of the Seelie and Unseelie might fall prey to it?”
“It is what they say, my King of Shadow and Nightmare.” The hero grins into their cup as they sip their tea again.
“I understand of course. This is truly disastrous for a powerful king such as myself. And where did you receive this most potent twine from? A place such as that must be feared by all within my court.”
“The place was not far from your domain, Oh King Umbran. A village blacksmith collected alms from all within the town and fashioned a thread from a loom blessed by a goddess of crafts. When the silver was spun, I placed it upon this simple cold iron bobbin so that it could not be touched by any fey until it was ready to be used.”
“Wonderful. Wonderful. You know of my tricks and weaknesses and all manner of ways to keep me from my tricky and feyish ways. Aren’t you a very clever hero, young Greer.”
The hero smiled as they lowered the teacup from their lips, “I thank you for the compliment, Fey King, but I must return it to you as I can accept no gifts from a fey, not even a compliment. Though you have been a marvelous host.”
“I thank you for the compliment and will gladly take it. As a member of my court, you are owed the right to offer tribute to your sovereign.”
The hero Greer stopped, fear in their eyes as they began to work their way through every sentence and moment to discover where or if they had made a mistake. As they froze, the Man from Umbra very politely, and pointedly, placed down the teacup that he had been sipping from during their conversation. It was then that Greer looked into the cup and saw the floating remains of berries and blossom steeping at the bottom. They placed their fingers to their lips where the remains of the food they had eaten, and the drops of the drink they had imbibed still rested.
“You are well versed in our trade; young Greer of the Umbran Court and I shall enjoy our many delightful conversations where you tell me of how you and your former people have come to know a great so many things.”
“You tricked me,” Greer said in astonishment and dejection as they placed the cup on the table, using a napkin from their pocket to dab at their mouth as if they could remove the fairy sin from their lips and revoke what they had done. As they pulled the handkerchief away, all that remained was the blemish of the berries that had been caught by their lips.
“Of course. Your intent was clear when you first arrived in my glade. Your fate was determined when you followed me to my table. My glade is my fairy ring, and while you have been here minutes, three hundred years have passed outside these woods. If you were to ever return, the village you called home would be dust and ash, long forgotten, and the blacksmith's line would have been wiped out centuries before by bandits and the very magics that you sought to destroy. But now that you have imbibed of my drink and my food, you can no longer leave my court.”
With the resignation of one who knew they are beat, Greer asked hollowly, “Was there anything I could have done? Was there any hope for me?”
“Of course! You had it nearly right on all counts. You offered me neither your name nor your identity. You did not give me your plan or your forgiveness and maintained your mortality till the very end. You even, and I found you most impressive at this, managed to ensure that I did not find offense in your statements or offerings.”
“But I had stepped in your circle. I was dead already.”
“No, no. I am a King of Nightmares. I would have let you live, only to return to a world you did not know to live through the nightmare of your ever-waking moment of failure.”
“Then will you kill me now, King of Shade?”
“Of course not. You are owned by me in my glade. But the silver thread, is it true as to its ability? I had not heard of such things before and am most interested in the value of pure silver.”
“Yes, it would work, or so I was promised. May I show you its power, my Lord of Shadow?”
The Umbran considered and then with a smile at the teacup before them, he extended a hand to the hero Greer. Silently and with much intent, Greer reached into their bag and withdrew a bolt of silver around a bobbin of cold iron. The iron made the Umbran King tense, even as the silver was wrapped around his arm. Then Greer stood from the table and unwound the thread as they walked towards the King’s throne, speaking in a calm steady voice.
“They say that the Fey are powerful and proud folk. It has been a great honor to sit with you this day, Umbran king. I enjoyed it almost as much as I enjoyed sitting with the Katherine of Spring when she gave me a charm to protect myself from fairy circles. Or when I broke bread with Humbrine and he taught me how to hold the food of the fey in one's stomach so that it is never truly ingested.”
The Umbran’s eyes opened violently as he turned, extending his claws and arching his back to stretch towards the hero Greer, but it was too late as the thread had been tightly wound around the throne of the King of Shadow and Nightmare. Even as his body moved, the thread went taut and he found himself pulled to the ground, unable to reach the hero Greer.
Greer turned to the edge of the fairy circle of the kings design and placed two fingers in the symbol of the evil eye over their throat, and then from deep within her came back the tea and food the Man from Umbra had fed her. They bowed deeply to the King and thanked him for the tea and for the meal. They promised that this would be the last time the king ever saw them. And as anyone can tell you, it is a very dangerous thing to lie to a fey.