by A V Awenna
Chapter 12. Blackbird Swallows his Fire
Blackbird had forgotten just how big elves could be. Tefyn was easily a foot taller than he was, but the two guards, wearing Light of Truth colours, would make Tefyn look petite. The older, with cropped grey hair, had Rusty in an armlock, holding the old fairy with his feet high above the ground. The younger guard had wavy blonde hair, fancily cut. His huge fingers held Tom high above the rocky ground. Both were ignoring Pefryn’s pleas to be gentle.
Blackbird spoke, as calmly as he could. ‘I am here. Release these two, and take me to Tefyn.’
‘Tefyn?’ sneered the older elf. ‘What’s Tefyn got to do with it? Hafren’s the real power now. We’re taking you to the whipping-post, Nobody, and Light of Truth will decide what happens to you when we arrive.’ He released Rusty, letting him drop to the ground. The old fairy picked himself up, grimacing with pain, and stumbled to the young elf, who dropped Tom carelessly into Rusty’s hands. The old fairy made desperate soothing noises, trying to calm the panicking mini-man. But Blackbird knew the reason the elf had emptied his hands had nothing to do with compassion. Both elves were unhooking the corded sashes they wore over their tunics – sashes which everyone knew made very effective whips.
‘You thought we were taking you to Tefyn?’ snarled the older elf, aiming a blow that Blackbird just managed to dodge. ‘Forget it, he’s finished. He was only elected because he would have inherited power anyway.’ He struck again, and this time Blackbird had to take the blow, or put Tom and Rusty at risk. The elves were driving him away from the safety of the trees.
‘Thought he was being clever, giving up the Kingship to be First Citizen,’ the younger elf sneered, lashing at Blackbird, forcing him across the stream. ‘Thought he was giving the people what they want, but no-one wants a damp-eyed fairy-lover giving high places to those who don’t deserve them.’ Blackbird could have tried for the safety of the portal – but, no, he needed to accept all he was given.
‘Or know how to hold them,’ snapped the older elf, landing a blow to Blackbird’s thigh. ‘But a damaged man cannot rule – and you’re the one who damaged Tefyn, so don’t expect his forgiveness. You’ll be exiled as soon as your wounds have healed enough for you to crawl out of Annwn.’
The elves began attacking Blackbird in earnest, whipping his legs to make him dance across the rocky ground. Were they trying to force him off the cliff, to fall and be broken on the rocks? But no, there was a way, just the narrowest thread of a ledge across the cliff face, with the valley bottom far, far below. He could see the path he needed to take, and even though it led into the unknown, Blackbird began running as fast as he could over the steep rocky ground.
A short-legged fairy was better built for running downhill than long-legged elves, but he was soon regretting how soft he’d become. It would have been torment enough even without the elves’ long whips stinging his bare skin. Fortunately the constant twists in the narrow path offered some protection – and as the elves had just climbed the path they were now descending, they were tired and slower than they could have been. Blackbird ran as fast as he dared along the treacherous route, eyes fixed on the path. His feet were sore, his legs aching, and his lungs gasping for air, but the vicious blows the elves were dishing out drove him on. As the path turned a corner of mountain, he saw Annwn town in the valley far, far below, and despaired at how far he would have to run to reach it – knowing that worse treatment awaited him when he did.
As they reached the far end of the cliff the way levelled out. A change of torment – it would be easier on his legs, but he’d lose his advantage over the elves. They soon caught up with him, and began lashing him in earnest. But they were undisciplined and kept getting in each other’s way. For a few moments they were so busy arguing with each other they seemed to forget about Blackbird, but that didn’t last long.
He could see woodland up ahead, beyond a pair of marker stones, and the path led straight through it. Here the ground was softer underfoot, and the closeness of the trees hampered the elves’ whips. It gave some respite, but soon they emerged onto a scrubby plain, where the path was barely visible through the herbs and weeds. The elves, in their heavy boots, just trampled the plants underfoot, but it was much tougher and slower going for Blackbird. Several times he stumbled, grazing his hands and knees where he fell. If he didn’t scramble to his feet quickly enough, he was hauled upright by his hair, and kicked along the path.
But the view was opening out, and he realised where they were. He could see a cairn up ahead, and beyond it was the wide, smooth road which led over the mountains from the now-abandoned places. It wasn’t far to Annwn now. A stinging blow to his back drove him on, and he wondered how much more he could take.
The sound of footsteps behind him slowed to a halt. Blackbird ran on, trying to put some distance between the elves and himself, but his legs soon gave out on him. He stumbled to a halt beyond the cairn, gasping for breath, and heard the younger elf’s exasperated voice, asking why the other had stopped.
After a moment, the older elf answered in measured tones, ‘I stopped to respect, and remember. The very first time I walked this route, I was just a child. When we reached this point I saw Annwn town for the first time, safe against the mountains. And my father told us that if we could get in, we would survive. I don’t often leave the city, but whenever I do, I stop here to remember how much I owe it, and why I guard and defend it. And I add a stone to this pile, to remember all those who didn’t make it, or weren’t allowed in. All those who are still out there.’
‘Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts,’ the younger elf sneered.
The older merely said, ‘If you were old enough to remember…’ then fell silent.
‘I’m young enough to keep running,’ the younger replied, setting off again. Blackbird took a deep gulp of air, and began running too, trying to maintain his headstart, but the long-legged elves soon caught up with him.
As they rounded a shoulder of the mountain, and Annwn came back into view, the younger elf caught Blackbird and grabbed him by the hair. ‘Enjoy the view from here’, the elf sneered, ‘you’ll never be allowed through the gates.’
He twisted Blackbird’s head so the fairy was facing the town below them, but it wasn’t just the pain which brought tears to Blackbird’s eyes. Lovely Annwn, his home for so many years. The snug walled town between the guardian mountains and the wild rushing river. He could see it all – the market place with its stalls, the grand elfish mansions on the sunny side of the town, and the shabby fairy quarters down near the river. There was the Healers’ Lodge, outside the Western Gate, and there, in the centre of the town, was the First Citizen’s Lodge, the former palace, where Blackbird, Tefyn and Pefryn had once lived. Only Tefyn lived there now, under siege from Hafren’s selfish treachery.
They were so close to the town that, when the breeze changed direction, it brought the sounds and smells of the town with it. The spicy smells of afternoon baking, and the susurrus of the city’s business, a woman’s laughter pealing out like a blessing. He felt then as though the city itself had already forgiven him, and knew that these elves’ power over him was limited. He would submit for now, but only as long as it served his purposes. He blinked away his tears, the better to enjoy the view.
‘Save your tears, Nobody’, the young elf spat. ‘Wait ’til your welcome party gets hold of you; they’ll give you plenty to weep over.’ He pointed the dozen or so elves milling about in the shabby square outside the town walls. They were all wearing Light of Truth’s colours, and most were riding in small chariots drawn by fairies. Blackbird tried to hide his reaction – this was slavery, something outlawed by Tefyn – but the elf didn’t need to see his disgust to know it was there. ‘Those are immigrant fairies from the Southlands. They’re delighted to do any work in return for a bed and a full belly – and they’ve all signed contracts, so they’re not slaves. Your preci
ous Tefyn can make all the laws he wants, but we’re good at bending them – and if he fines us, we can afford to pay.’
With that, he flung Blackbird along the mountain path once more, and the fairy was whipped towards the town. The elves driving him began to shout Light of Truth’s slogans as they approached the square, and the shouts were taken up by those waiting below. Blackbird was driven into a storm of hate.
