Elf Doubt

by Bryant Reil

  “Wait – you work for her?”

  “I work with her.”

  Kyla decided her secret was too big to keep from someone being duped into her service. “She’s Nyx, in case you didn’t know.”

  Herleif drew the blade of his knife across a stone. “Mm-hmm.”

  “Nyx. Erebus’ sister. Daughter of Chaos. We work for one of the greatest villains in history.”

  “Not much into history, myself.” He shrugged, and made another grab for her hand, which she yanked away again. “I know who Nyx is, of course.”

  “I mean, Sophrosyne’s still better than the Avowed. She sends me on all these dangerous assignments, but she seems to look out for me, you know?”

  “So that’s why she had me running over the cursed countryside chasing the flying city. I thought it was a waste of time.”

  “She knew this would happen? No coincidences with her. Can she see the future?”

  Herleif looked at his nails and began cleaning under them with a twig. “Don’t know. Haven’t asked.”

  “Anyway, you know she’s tried to destroy the earth before, right? Many times, maybe.” She began speaking in a slow staccato for emphasis. “She worked for Chaos.”

  “Maybe. It’s all ancient stories. She hasn’t hurt anybody lately, has she?”

  “She reads their thoughts, though. And makes them forget things.”

  “So? Lot of things I’d like to forget. Maybe they’re better off.”

  Kyla thought of poor Elial Ciana wandering about the hall after Sophrosyne made him forget to speak to Anh-Bul about becoming Kyla’s patron.

  “I don’t think so. Memories are everything, even bad ones. My dad’s funeral was the worst day of my life, but I never want to forget it.”

  “And she hasn’t taken it from you, has she?” Herleif’s hand suddenly flew up to grab her ring finger, but she managed to yank it away.

  “I’ll get it off!” she screamed in panic, but twist and pull as she might she couldn’t pull it over the raw, charred skin on her finger.

  Herleif reached for her hand again, and once again Kyla yanked it away. Then, in an instant, she found herself lying on her back on a blanket several yards away, her finger burning in pain. She looked at it to see it wrapped in gauze, though some of her fluids were soaking through. She gripped her aching hand and screamed.

  ***

  Aura was as puzzled as the guards when Kyla and the unknown rider vanished.

  “She’s gone,” she called to them. “Back to Aeolis.”

  The guards looked around before heeding her order. They followed her father’s commands before her own. But, finding no tracks, and seeing no sign of the elves from the air, they eventually headed back to report.

  Aura stayed back a few minutes to have a look of her own. As she drifted over a grove of trees, she heard a faint scream. She knew Kyla’s screams well, having heard her night terrors from time to time.

  She turned invisible, and weaved through the trees, ready to strike should Kyla be under assault. The mysterious gray elf stood over her, applying ointment and bandages to her finger. So, he was a friend. Aura decided it best not to make herself known. Kyla had enough to worry about without adding Aura’s own distress.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Goodbye

  Titania flew toward her chamber, arms filled with rose petals and a basket of dew hanging from her shoulder. She wore a dress woven of sassafras leaves, freshly tailored, and the brooch Oberon had given her when they courted centuries ago. She was perfumed in lilac and morning sun, and her hair tied up and held with a sliver of elm so she could let it cascade down her shoulders at the right moment. Romance had come and gone, and come back again, in the long course of their marriage. She was determined to make tonight, perhaps their last night together, more wonderful than any of their early days when even a glance or light touch had been enough to send her into a spin.

  He didn’t know she was soon to die. He couldn’t. And she couldn’t tell him. He would be destroyed by what had to be. Though her stomach twisted and screamed, her face was calm and sultry as she flew to her chamber door. She had only a short time to set up the candles.

  She burst into the room. A dim blue glow permeated the soft darkness. A honey-sweet chorus rose as she drifted to the floor, stunned, looking about and nearly in a panic. What was going on?

  Oberon stepped from the shadows behind her wardrobe. He wore his black and gold wedding robe, which he only wore now for their centennial anniversaries. That was not today.

  He bowed. “Evening, dear. I hope you don’t mind I broke into your room.”

  Her heart fluttered. His voice had taken a strong and commanding tone the past decades. Now it was soft, as when they were young lovers.

  “No. No, not at all. I brought you something.”

  She fumbled a moment, dropping some of her rose petals on the floor. He helped her pick them up, and they sat on the bed. She shaped one of the rose petals into a cone and filled it halfway with dew. Her smile was genuinely awkward now, and the darkness that lay ahead had fled from her mind. He watched as she blushed and offered him a sip. He took it and smiled, and she took a sip of her own.

  “What brings this on?” she smiled. “It isn’t my birthday.”

  He didn’t know, did he? No. Of course not. He wouldn’t be so calm if he knew of Titania’s coming doom.

  No time for such thoughts now.

  A familiar song began to play, and the lighting in the room shifted into a soft lilac.

  He stood and offered his hand. “A dance?”

  Titania grabbed his hand and he pulled her to her feet. He reached his arm behind her back and spun her smartly to the left. She stumbled a bit, but caught herself, and saw his smile, and smiled back. He looked the same as he did four hundred years ago, only now his body sparked of power.

  She looked about for the source of the music, but seeing no band, assumed it was magic.

  “You wrote this song for me!” She gasped as she heard the familiar chorus for the first time in centuries.

  He nodded. “You remember.”

  It wasn’t a good song, but he had written it when he began courting her. He had written many more over the years, and of better quality. But this was the first.

  “I’m happy you’re finally able to spend an evening at home,” she said.

  “Yes, me too.”

  And that was all the talk for some time. They danced through several songs, though no others he had written. All were connected to memories: their wedding, the coronation, the birth of their son, who died soon after. They danced close, and held each other, and cried, and needed no words.

  She found herself cradled in his arms as he sat on her bed. She could feel the pulse of his stomach, his breath, the static in the air around him. It was quiet, and soft music still played. She pushed herself up, and looked into his eyes, and gave him a kiss. It wasn’t a kiss of passion, as when they were young, but a thank-you for a lifetime of support and strength and encouragement. They had been together now far longer than they had ever been apart, and she couldn’t imagine life without him.

  How was he going to fare without her? Her smile felt like a lie, and she wanted to tell him everything. How could she leave him behind with such a secret hidden from him?

  But she couldn’t tell him. He looked so happy. Only…she looked in his eyes again. His smile was hollow, too. There was a secret behind his eyes. Perhaps the dissent and disturbances weren’t going well. Oh, she couldn’t trouble him now. She would do what needed to be done. Perhaps, if spirits lived on, she could watch over him. If not, well, she would leave him with the greatest of memories.

  She pulled the sliver from her hair and it cascaded around her shoulders. She pulled him close and kissed him, more passionately than before.

  “Wait.” He held up a finger as she placed her hands on his chest. She sat back, somewhat startled.

  He reached behind the head of the bed and pulled out a wooden box, p
lacing it on the bed between them. “Do you remember that first afternoon when I met you at the flower-beds by the river? You were making a wreath, and I tried to help, only I ruined it?”

  She laughed. “Yes! I remember. I’m surprised you remember.”

  He opened the box. She gasped, her hands over her mouth, as she looked at him, and back at the flattened, misshapen mound of flowers in the box.

  “You kept it? I threw it in the river!”

  “I fished it out after you left and preserved it. I was sentimental, then. To be honest I forgot about it, else I would have shared it with you long ago. But I was going through the warehouse and found it stuffed back on one of the shelves. And there’s one more thing.”

  He reached behind the bed again, and pulled out another box, and another. These were filled with a variety of fresh flowers and branches, freshly cut.

  “I thought tonight we could try again. I’m sure I can do a better job.”

  Titania fanned herself with her hand. After four hundred years, it was hard to keep the spark alive. Oberon had managed it.

  “I think the first one was perfect,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “But I’d love to make another one with you.”

  Now her smile was genuine, and the dark secret behind her eyes lit up as they laughed and reminisced of all their years together. And many of the best memories were the years that had been hard, when they thought it wouldn’t work, but they pressed forward.

  As fond as she had always been, she never felt more in love with Oberon than she did now, on her last night with him.

  There would still be time for passion, before morning came, and for that she longed. But for now, she had never been so happy as when she made a second ugly, misshapen wreath with her husband.

  ***

  “Oh, you crab-apple sucking sack of pine nuts. What did you do?” Kyla clutched her raw hand around her wrist, her eyes fixed on the mass of finger protruding from the center, wrapped in damp bandages.

  “Ring had to come off.”

  “I would have gotten it off myself if you gave me a minute!” she shouted.

  Herleif looked around the grove. “Quiet. I can only freeze time so far. They probably heard you.”

  “Now I’m going to have a hideous scar all over my finger. Not even a cool one, like a knife wound.” Her pain and anger turned to alarm. “Oh, the ring! Where did you put it?

  “Tossed it. Over there somewhere. Thought it was junk.”

  “I happen to need that piece of junk!”

  “Why? Heirloom?”

  Kyla huffed. “Something like that.” She didn’t care to tell him of its magic. Not so much that she didn’t trust him, but it was going to take a few minutes to forgive him for shucking the skin from her finger.

  As she stood she felt a tug on her side. Bandages covered a portion of her skin behind a charred hole in her dress where she had been struck by the air spirit’s lightning. It pulled as she leaned to the right but didn’t hurt much.

  She walked over to the spot where Herleif cast his eyes. The ring was regrettably easy to spot: regrettably, because it was the long strand of charred skin stuck to it that made it stand out. Kyla knelt over it. Her thoughts ran back to Dunkin, and how the skin of his finger had similarly peeled from his corpse when she and Heff had reclaimed it.

  Though Dunkin’s skin had been rotted, this was somehow more gruesome. That was part of Kyla’s body hanging off the ring now, and it belonged on her finger. Yet she was repulsed by it. She picked up a stick from the ground and pressed it against the flap of skin, and grabbed the ring with her other hand, and pulled. The skin stretched, and a piece broke off the end, sending the rest slapping back against her hand.

  She dropped it and jumped back. “Ew! You do it!”

  Herleif rolled his eyes, which made her even more angry. He started to walk over, but she decided she had enough of him and held up a hand for him to stop.

  “No. I’ll do it.”

  He rolled his eyes again and returned to his spot.

  Kyla grabbed another stick, and this time wrapped the strip of skin around it, until the stick was right up to the ring, and she yanked. This time the skin popped off. There were still charred pieces stuck to the metal. She found another twig, unsoiled by blood and flesh, and used the rough bark to scrape clean the inside.

  Kyla put the ring on an unscarred finger as she sat on a rock across from Herleif. “Now what are we supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know. Can’t wait here. I’ll take you somewhere safe and wait for Sophrosyne.”

  There was a whinny. Kyla jumped before realizing it was Herleif’s horse, which she had quite forgotten about with her finger being half ripped off.

  “Can you ride a horse?” Herleif asked. “I mean, can you stay on, while I ride?”

  “Well, I’ve only ridden the flying sort. I can’t imagine the land kind are any more difficult.”

  ***

  “Pull!”

  Saul pulled the rope to set off his launch-tube, shooting a gourd high in the air. Lili traced its path with her hand before blasting a ball of fire. It hit the gourd square, charring it, and it fell hidden into the distant grass.

  “Why do you want me to shoot these stupid things?” Lili walked over to the crate of gourds and picked one up, looking it over. “I need weapons.”

  “Well, yes, I’m going to make explosive shrapnel grenades, but I don’t want to waste them in practice.”

  “Not a waste. It’s be awesome. Like how we blew up that troll, remember?”

  “Of course I remember, but we can’t just walk around campus blowing up trolls.”

  Lili shrugged. “Why not? Nobody’d miss ‘em.”

  Lili’s humor was lost on most people. Even Saul was just beginning to understand it. The demons had a dark and violent sensibility. Though, it could be argued, most satyrs weren’t much better.

  He put his hand on her arm. “It’s not easy to get supplies. I’ll see what I can do. Maybe for every ten gourds you hit, I’ll toss you a grenade.”

  “Every five.”

  “Ten. You’re not the one who has to make them. And I don’t want to use more than we need. I’d like to keep a good supply for emergencies.”

  Saul had felt helpless during Erebus’ assault on Equinox. His classes were only half the size this term, due to losses.

  Lili could read on his face what he was thinking. She was good at that. She walked up and put her thumb on his chin and stroked his goatee with her index finger. “Hey, we’re gonna be ready next time. Slaughter us some Avowed.”

  Saul jumped back as the ground rumbled and a hole burst only a few feet away. A jet of dust and ash shot upward, and a cloaked figure ascended from the ground and handed Lili a rolled-up letter.

  “Ashes and brimstone,” she muttered. She looked up at him. “Military messenger.”

  Her face dropped as she inscrolled the document and began to read. Though her lips moved, Saul couldn’t decipher what message was sucking the joy out of her. When she finished she looked back up at him, and said nothing, but her eyes were welling.

  He stepped closer until he could smell her breath. “Well?”

  She held the letter so he could see the writing, though she spoke before he had a chance to read it. “Draft letter. I have to go to war.”

  Saul clapped his hands together. “Hey! No worries! I’ll enlist with you. Nobody’s gonna turn down my grenades, right?”

  “I don’t think you can.”

  “Well, we can at least ask. Maybe I can come along as a servant. Carry your weapons. Like a squire.”

  “No, Saul. You can’t. We’re going to be on opposite sides.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Unceremonious

  Marik swung open the door to Anh-Bul’s office. The snakes on the Director’s head writhed for a cricket he held pinched between his middle and forefinger.

  “Yes?” One of the snakes grabbed the cricket by the head, only to have it snatche
d away by another. This led to a tussle between the two.

  Marik snapped back into focus. “Right. I recently had a visit from Aethelwyne. The Royal Heir.”

  Anh-Bul sat straight. “Yes? And why did she come to you, and not me?”

  “She didn’t want to be seen on campus. It is unofficial business, and she didn’t want to stir up any gossip. She must have seen me wander into the woods south of the Gate, for she stopped me and asked me to bring you there.”

  Anh-Bul stood and brushed off his shirt. Always eager to suck up to royalty. It made the lie easy to sell. Boring, almost, although Marik was still terrified of pulling this off. One glance from the gorgon could leave Marik a statue, fit only to gather bird droppings.

  “I’m not dressed for it.” Anh-Bul walked for the door, then looked at his shoes and stopped. “Need a polish. Can she meet me in, say, an hour?”

  “I assume she’d rather see you as you are than wait for you.”

  “Right. Right. I’m sure she’s busy. She’s there now?”

  “I believe so. She said she would wait.”

  “And where is she, exactly?”

  Marik walked through the door and beckoned Anh-Bul to follow. “I’ll lead you there. It isn’t far.”

  ***

  “You can’t just leave him like this.” Aspen watched as the poor little brown man tapped at the end of his nose and laughed. “He’s like a baby.”

  Sophrosyne nodded. “A happy baby. A lot happier than he was as an adult.”

  Eunoe put a hand on Aspen’s shoulder. “He was an evil thing, Aspen. A killer. Think of it as a new chance at life for him.”

  “That isn’t the problem!” While Aspen well understood why Sophrosyne wiped the little man’s mind - and she was somewhat alarmed to find out she could do that - it was terrible how she was willing to abandon him.

  “We can’t take him home,” Eunoe frowned. “Mind gone or not, he still has associates among the Avowed that may come looking for him. We’ll find him a safe place to live. Promise.”