by Sam Ledel
Taking off for Aurelia, Jastyn ran. Her ears trained on the noise, she pushed faster, faltering slightly when the sound paused. Coran shouted behind her. At the same time, she left her feet to dive forward as a streamlined whistle peeled out from the trees.
“Jastyn!”
She shoved Aurelia, who tumbled backward, and for what seemed like the third time in a very short while, Jastyn lost her breath when she hit the ground.
Stretched out on her stomach on the grass, she closed her eyes in relief. It took a few seconds for her to register the searing pain pulsating in her right shoulder.
Everything next seemed to happen at once.
“You fool! How could you miss?”
Somebody jumped down from the trees, landing lightly nearby. A language Jastyn couldn’t understand drifted over her like hurried music. She rolled onto her side while a pair of hands landed on her legs, then ran up her waist, treading carefully around her shoulder.
“Jastyn? Gods, Jastyn, no.”
She winced. When her vision cleared, Aurelia leaned over her. Her fair skin looked shockingly pale in the moonlight, and her light eyes swam with tears. Another pair of hands gripped her boots while Drest continued to argue with their new assailant.
“Jastyn!” She could feel Coran’s hands shaking as they held her. “What are we gonna do?”
Swallowing, Jastyn’s voice was hoarse when she asked, “It’s an arrow, isn’t it?”
Closing her eyes to block out the pain, Jastyn rolled onto her back. Her left hand ran across her chest and found the long end of a shaft sticking out of her shoulder. The arrowhead poked out from its tip about four inches above her punctured flesh. Her stomach churned as Aurelia confirmed her suspicions.
“It went right through you.” Her voice was distant. When Drest’s voice ceased, Jastyn groaned, leaning her hip toward Aurelia.
“The pouch. Take it.”
Aurelia’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
Drest’s heavy tread drew closer. Jastyn gritted her teeth at the spasm the arrow sent through her back. “Your father’s gift. The Light of Triur. Use it now.”
Aurelia’s eyes lit with recognition. She hurriedly opened the pouch, pulling out the small globe.
“Now, where were we?”
Jastyn’s eyes followed Aurelia as she gripped the glass in her fist. “Close your eyes,” she muttered. Coran looked between them, confused.
“Do it,” Jastyn ordered.
Aurelia reared back and threw the orb directly at Drest’s feet. Jastyn felt Aurelia collapse on top of her, shielding the three of them in a red shell from the blazing white light that lit up every blade of grass, every fairies’ nest, and every fallen leaf in the forest. Drest’s screams were overpowered by the light that burst and swallowed him up, encompassing his legs, his waist, and his arms in a sphere of punishing white.
Jastyn’s eyes burned, and she squeezed them tight to block out the unfamiliar bright. She could feel Aurelia bury herself lower, her face flush against Jastyn’s neck as one arm lay over her protectively.
The smoking, claustrophobic air Drest had left them in was ripped open by the light. A sound like a thousand waves breaking against the sand roared. In a fleeting moment, Jastyn felt a jolt, like a spark, race through her veins as the light washed over them, then disappeared. She opened her eyes. Once again, the world was dark. Night lay over the Wood like a familiar blanket. Stars winked overhead. Everything was quiet.
The sigh that left her throat was echoed by Coran. Lifting her left arm, Jastyn wrapped it carefully around Aurelia. Her neck was wet, and she could feel Aurelia’s short, scared breaths.
“It’s okay,” Jastyn murmured. She forgot about the plan and how she needed to use Aurelia like a pawn in her scheme. She forgot about what it meant to care for her. In that moment, Jastyn pulled her close. Aurelia whimpered, and Jastyn ran a hand down Aurelia’s dark hair, still soft as silk despite everything.
Aurelia sniffled, and leaned back. “I’m so sorry, Jastyn.”
“Shh.” She gave half a smile. “I’m okay.”
Coran coughed, swinging his leg in front of him and blinking so fast Jastyn thought he’d gone mad. “What happened? I feel like I’ve been struck by somethin’.”
“Like a thunderbolt,” Aurelia explained. “I felt it, too. The Light of Triur. Harnessed the way it was, the compacted light was the brightest force in the realm.” She paused. “However, my father only gave us a fraction of his supply. While meant to serve as a beacon for the lost, the light—if focused on a single point—could stun anything in its path of impact. In this case, anyone. According to the texts, the weaponized light penetrates one’s mind, causing flashes of instability and a drop into darkness. That’s the idea, anyway.” She glanced at Jastyn, who nodded.
“That’s what I was hoping for. It’s similar to spell-fire.”
With Aurelia’s arm beneath her, she sat up gingerly. Every muscle and bone inside her ached. Reluctantly, she examined the protruding arrow. A thin line of blood trickled down her navy tunic.
All three of them turned to where Drest had stood. He sprawled on the ground, his legs turned inward awkwardly. His barrel chest went unmoving, his face slack.
Next to an empty bow lay a wide-set, silver-haired elf. His chest rose and fell, albeit slowly. Coran kicked Drest’s boot. His ankle flopped, then lay motionless. They exchanged glances.
Coran muttered what each of them was thinking. “I think…I think he’s dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Are you positive you’re ready?”
“Yes. Do it.”
Jastyn found herself cradled against Aurelia, tucked against her like a snail in its shell. Her legs were useless, only tired limbs extended over the grass in front of her. She leaned back into Aurelia, who sat behind her like a welcome shadow.
Her arms wrapped around Jastyn, Aurelia gripped the shaft sticking out from her shoulder. When her other hand pinched the base above her skin, Jastyn squirmed.
“Wait.” She closed her eyes. “Take me through it again.” Jastyn’s voice was hoarse, and she hoped Aurelia didn’t hear it quiver. Sweat lined her forehead, the brisk night making the sweat cool on her warm face. Coran had restarted their fire, and the low flames flickered lazily in the blissfully still air.
Aurelia sighed, lifting Jastyn’s torso as her chest rose and fell. “I have to break this arrow head off. That’s the first step.”
“Then we’re done?”
Aurelia chuckled. “I’m afraid not. I will have to remove the shaft from your shoulder. The only way to do that is—”
“Push it through.” Jastyn winced, her eyes slamming tighter. She had to laugh. Occasionally, she had imagined a moment similar to this. She had imagined herself close to Aurelia. She’d imagined Aurelia’s hands on her, running down her back in a playful dance. In the middle of the night, in her dreams, Jastyn had let herself fall into a fantasy.
She never imagined it would play out like this.
Coran pulled her from her thoughts. “I’ll be right here, Jas. You’ll be fine.” He sat at her feet. Through her blurry vision she could see the anxiety in his eyes but was grateful for his words.
“Want to switch places?” she joked.
“I’ll take the next arrow, how ’bout that?” He patted her boots, and she grimaced when Aurelia shifted.
“Once the arrow is removed,” she continued, “we will need to cauterize the wound so you don’t lose any more blood.”
Her shoulder felt as if it was being pinched between two opposing forces, as if at any moment it might tear and burst into flames all at the same time. Jastyn breathed deeply. She tried to swallow and found her throat dry as tree bark after a drought. “Can I have some water before you start?”
Aurelia’s voice was soft when she replied. “Of course.” She reached out, and Coran grabbed the flask that lay next to him. His smile fell to a frown. He shook the flask, opened the top, and looked inside.
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“’Fraid we’re all out.” He gave Jastyn a sympathetic glance.
“Then we must fetch you some more.” Carefully, Aurelia pulled herself out from behind Jastyn, laying her gently onto a flat-faced boulder so that Jastyn could lean back and keep the arrow from moving. The princess grabbed the flask, and turned back to Jastyn. “I’ll only be a moment. Then we have to begin.” She smiled weakly, and Jastyn saw worry in the crease between her brows. She knew what Aurelia must be thinking. An arrow was part of her brother’s undoing. While Jastyn still didn’t understand the depth of what had brought upon the prince’s death, she knew Aurelia had to be drowning in memories of her lost brother.
Wanting to reassure her, Jastyn held up a hand. Aurelia took it in her own, brushing Jastyn’s knuckles across her cheek. When she turned to go, Jastyn pressed her knuckles against her heart.
“Wait,” she said, ignoring the skip in her chest. “Coran, go with her.”
Even in the dim light, Jastyn could tell this wasn’t what Aurelia wanted to hear. Her hands flew to her hips. “I am quite capable of fetching water.”
A spasm of coughs overtook Jastyn. She winced, then said, “Coran knows where the creek is. He’ll show you.”
Aurelia opened her mouth to protest, but Jastyn shot Coran a look, and he was on his feet. “She’s right, m’lady. This way.”
Aurelia gestured to Drest and the elf. Reading her mind, Jastyn said, “Drest is out. If the fae wakes, I can handle him.”
Aurelia didn’t look as if she believed her but thankfully, didn’t argue. When she turned, Jastyn mouthed a thank you to Coran, who shook his head as he ushered Aurelia into the trees. “Don’t go anywhere now, eh?” he called over his shoulder.
Jastyn gave a half-hearted wave. Once she could no longer hear their footsteps, she collapsed backward, gripping her arm in agony.
With half of her back pressed against the boulder, her right arm hung dully at her side. Her elbow and wrist were starting to go numb. She hoped it was only the shock of the arrow that caused this. She moaned. What had she been thinking?
I was thinking about Aurelia.
In that moment of chaos, Aurelia filled her mind. She had cared only about ensuring her safety. Jastyn ran her left hand over her forehead, resting it for a moment over her eyes.
How did she let that happen? How did she let her feelings get the best of her? Some good it did. She dared a glance down at the arrow. Leaning back, Jastyn took in the outline of clouds scattered overhead. Patterns of stars poked through their thin veil, and the edges of the sky began to lighten with the first signs of dawn.
She let her mind wander. Surprisingly, she found herself back in the village. She stood against a wall of her mother’s home. She peered in as if she was looking through one end of a shell she picked up from the shore. Her family appeared small and distant. She spotted Elisedd in the corner, mending a misshapen horseshoe. Alanna read by the fire. She stretched out on the floor, her head resting comfortably in their mother’s lap. Her mother worked a needle and thread through an old tunic of Jastyn’s, one that had been handed down to her sister. Jastyn watched her family go about their evening. She even smelled stew in the cauldron. Her stomach ached with hunger. More than that, it ached to join them.
“I’ll be back,” she muttered through the shell. “I’ll find the cure and save Alanna.”
Each member of her family froze. They turned, but their faces had changed. They were empty and cold, like faceless stone.
Elisedd spoke first.
“Don’t come back, Jastyn. I never wanted you. You’re only another mouth to feed.”
The image shifted, and her sister’s face came into view. She looked pale and feeble. “Jastyn, you won’t make it in time. I’ll be gone soon.”
“No,” Jastyn said. “I will find the cure. Somehow, Alanna, I will find it. Don’t give up on me. Please.”
Her mother was next. “You did this.” Her eyes were dark, unfamiliar. Shadows aged her typically youthful features. “If it weren’t for you, Alanna would be well. We would be happy.”
“That’s not true.” Jastyn fought to move closer, but her legs were stuck, tied to the ground. “Mother, please. I didn’t mean what I said. I was angry.”
“You are no daughter of mine.”
“Mother!”
Her mother’s words warped into a cackle. The seashell shrank away, taking the image of her family with it. The village disappeared into vast darkness. In its place stood the fae from her nightmares.
“You’re not real,” she said. “You’re only a dream.”
Forcing herself to sit up, Jastyn pinched her arm. Her eyes flew open. Relieved, she looked around the clearing. The campfire burned nearby. Drest didn’t move, and the elf’s breathing came slowly.
“It was only a dream,” she said again, using her good wrist to prop herself up.
A set of footsteps rustled behind her.
“Aurelia?” She squinted into the dark. “Coran, is that you?”
But she saw no one. The steps shifted. On her right, the tread drew nearer.
“Who’s there?”
Without warning, the darkness sprang up, and the Dark Fae was before her atop his horse. The beast’s eyes burned red. Instinctively, she covered her face.
The horse reared, bringing its massive hooves to the ground in a clap of thunder. The Dark Fae directed his steed to the elf. Jastyn scrambled back, moving behind the boulder. From there she could see the fae look down as if analyzing the fallen elf from beneath his black hood. The rider’s long fingers, like spindles, reached down from the reins.
An excruciating scream, like a horde of banshees falling from the sky, erupted across the clearing. Jastyn shrank back as the Dark Fae’s fingers pulled silver smoke from the elf’s chest, which rose like a toy on a string. His body thrashed, his entire being fighting desperately to keep whatever the Dark Fae was taking. The thin, sinewy smoke floated higher, where it slowly took on a shape.
When the elf’s soul had completely left its body, the Dark Fae curled the smoke into a circle the size of Jastyn’s fist. In horror, she watched as he pulled back his hood, revealing a jagged line where his mouth should have been. There wasn’t a face, for Jastyn saw no eyes nor a nose. Only the serrated opening that parted and swallowed the elf’s soul.
Next to Drest, the elf lay lifeless.
As if he’d forgotten Jastyn was there, the Dark Fae tilted his head toward her. The horse followed suit.
“Odium Child.”
Jastyn scurried back, trying to stand. But each effort proved futile, and she ended up on her side, one elbow propped beneath her while her feet pushed against the earth.
Dismounting, the Dark Fae floated in her direction. She couldn’t move. Her entire body was frozen, rooted like the trees behind her. She wanted to run but was locked to the ground with dread and impending doom that accompanied the fae from her nightmares.
“Your journey ends here.”
His voice was lighter than she remembered but possessed the echoes of shadows long forgotten.
“Luck does not walk with you this night. Come.”
Jastyn couldn’t muster the energy to untangle the Dark Fae’s words. She concentrated only on pulling herself across the grass, trying to put as much space between herself and the fae as she could.
A familiar whistling pierced the air. Half a second later, a blazing blue arrow scraped the neck of the Dark Fae’s cloak, warranting a screech so loud Jastyn covered her ears. Another arrow followed, then another. The arrows narrowly missed the Dark Fae, each landing with a quick thump into the trees around them.
Swiftly, the Dark Fae flew to his horse, which reared back again once he was atop it. Jastyn wasn’t sure whether it was the wind or the Dark Fae who let out a monstrous howl. But in the seconds that followed, a dark cloud appeared, sweeping away the vision from her tormented dreams until only the quiet night was left.
* * *
“Gods, what was that?” Aureli
a sprinted behind the elf, the same slender-framed one who had loosened her ropes the day of her escape. He had found them when Coran was filling the flask with water from the creek. It turned out he had followed Drest, knowing he was after Aurelia. When she had spotted him standing like a statue on the other side of the creek not ten minutes ago, she wasn’t sure if the elf was going to plunge an arrow into her heart or bring her back to Drest. She was taken aback when he leapt over to them and bowed.
“Your Highness Aurelia. Please, let me offer my company as compensation for past indiscretions.”
Coran, who had stood in front of Aurelia, one hand across her, muttered, “What’s he on about?”
Aurelia, however, stepped past Coran and held out her arm. The elf straightened, reaching out to take Aurelia’s forearm in his grasp.
“You are forgiven. But please, what made you change your mind?”
The elf’s gray eyes turned to slivers. “We were told by our queen that a dark force threatened our lands. When the human offered her a deal to extinguish the force, she could not refuse. Our lives are in her hands. She had no choice.”
Aurelia listened intently as he continued. “The human claimed he could offer an unbreakable alliance between the kingdom of man and the elves. There was, however, one stipulation.” He paused. “This human would offer this alliance but only if the power to do so lay in his hands.”
Aurelia swallowed as the elf’s gaze fell. “He came from your kingdom and promised us his protection but only after the heirs to the Diarmaid throne disappeared.”
“I don’t understand,” Coran interjected. “Why would the queen of the elves believe something like that? Drest is hardly a prominent figure in the kingdom.”
“The elves respect titles,” the fae explained. “However, we are keener on answering to power. The human showed great strength with his frighteningly astute control of wind. He impressed the queen. And her territory was being threatened. She saw this as the only path to ensure our safety.”
Aurelia felt as if a bearskin rug had been yanked out from beneath her. “Drest was behind all of this.”
