The Blessing of Equinox

by Kathryn Reynolds

  Fjell chuckled at the display, shaking his head. “Right then. Let’s get the other half of this blessing, defeat the kerling, then see where things lay, aye?”

  They came around the bend of the road and the trees gave way to a field of blood red mud. It stretched for miles in each direction, and clumps of trees grew sporadically throughout it - some in the buds of spring, others in the full green of summer, another in the vibrant tones of autumn, and a few more yet barren and covered in winter snow.

  Not a hundred yards before them, two great armies clashed, silver armor against golden, winter blue against summer green. Overhead, summer’s blue skies met with winter’s grey clouds, and as the two armies slammed into one another, thunder and lightning echoed overhead.

  Chapter 23

  Marsilia sat petrified atop her mountain goat. There had been no sound, no warning. It was as if they came around the bend of the path and stepped through some magical barrier. As the roar of war crashed over her - swords against armor, shields slamming together, screams of pain and rage, cracking of ice, whipping of vines, the constant rumble of thunder - she realized that must be exactly what had happened. Some magical barrier kept the noise of war from Spring’s tranquil forests.

  Even as that little piece of logic worked itself out in the back of her mind, though, her heart pounded against her ribs. Blood sprayed across the landscape, fallen bodies trampled in the mud. The horrific scent of copper filled the air as death was dealt on a scale she could scarcely comprehend.

  Fjell’s hand clasped her elbow and she jerked, looking back at him with wide eyes. He said something else and it was lost in the den of the battle, but he nodded to a path to the south and road past her. Tearing her eyes once more from the battle, she turned to follow him. The Seelie and Unseelie elves engaged in the turmoil utterly ignored their passing, but one other caught her eye.

  As they began to turn away from the fray, a figure rode from behind the Unseelie ranks upon a fine white horse. Its hooves were crystal clear ice, and its mane flowed like wisps of snow on the breeze. Silver-blue armor clad the beast and matched perfectly with the armor its rider wore. He watched them, eyes glowing blue from beneath a heavily engraved helm, a sword in his hands so very like the one they’d had Lady Ylva bless.

  As Marsilia fell in behind Fjell, she glanced back again. The knight continued to watch from a distance, unmoving as he stared at them. Then without any sort of rhyme or reason, he turned back to the battle, bellowing unheard orders over his ranks and once more ignoring them.

  Musa stopped and Marsilia looked ahead in confusion. Though they were not quite past the midway point of the battle, Fjell sat stiffly upon his unmoving mount ahead of her, one hand resting on his sword as he stared ahead. Marsilia leaned to the side to see around him.

  Another elf stood in their path, tall, slender and lethal, clad in supple dark leather. His silver-streaked dark blue hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and his eyes were so pale as to be nearly all white. He raised his hand, and with a snap, the sounds of battle vanished.

  “Fjell Ulfson,” the elf said fluidly, “what business do you have bringing a mortal to the Fields of Reversal?”

  “We were wondering the same thing,” another male voice asked behind Marsilia.

  She spun in her saddle to find another elf standing behind her, dressed similarly in dark leather but with gold-streaked dark brown hair. His green eyes flickered past her to the other elf.

  “Lord Grisell,” the brown-haired elf said politely by way of greeting.

  “Lord Aymon,” the blue-haired elf replied. “So they are not agents of yours?”

  Aymon tsked. “Of course not, as though we would stoop to using a dwarf and human for anything. Not yours either?”

  “You offend me,” Grisell answered, scoffing. “No, they are not.”

  “We’re on a quest!” Marsilia blurted out in exasperation, her head still swiveling between the two flanking elves.

  Both elves turned their gazes towards her and she shifted nervously upon her saddle. Grisell tilted his head to the side, then took a step sideways into a shadow… and vanished. Before Fjell could even utter a curse ahead of her, the elf reappeared at Marsilia’s side, looking up at her with curiosity.

  “And what quest would that be, fair lady?” the dark elven lord asked.

  Closer up, she could see that his eyes were not eerily white, but such a pale blue as to appear such from a distance. She shifted, meeting that unsettling but beautiful gaze, heart pounding in her chest. He could be nothing but an Unseelie lord.

  “Indeed,” Aymon said from her other side, and Marsilia looked over to find herself suddenly flanked by the Seelie elf lord. “It’s been a long time since any dared quest through our lands, and you are heading towards Queen Titania’s woods.”

  “Fy fanden,” Fjell growled, twisting in his saddle to look back at the two elves. “Ye leave her alone; she’s under my protection. We’re questing for the Blessing of Equinox.”

  “Be silent, outcast,” Aymon said, casting a dismissive at Fjell before returning his gaze to Marsilia. “We will not stop your quest, but I would know why you are on it.”

  Marsilia frowned back down at the Seelie lord in disapproval. “Outcast or not, Fjell is part of this quest, and I’ll not stand for anyone speaking to him so. If you want me to answer, apologize. Otherwise, let us pass.”

  “Oh-ho-ho!” Grisell laughed from her other side. “She has some spark to her!” He leaned past Marsilia’s knee to grin across her lap at his Seelie counterpart. “Let’s hear that apology then, hm?”

  Aymon’s eye twitched for a moment before he glanced back to Fjell. “My apologies, m’lord. I spoke cruelly and out of turn.”

  Fjell turned his mount around in its place and frowned back at the Seelie lord. “Fine,” he finally said, raising his gaze to meet Marsilia. “Ye want me to answer this puffed up lord or..?”

  “Fjell!” she gasped, then raised a hand to half cover her face in embarrassment. Aymon began to bristle beside her as he glared to Fjell and she quickly pressed on, her words nearly tumbling over themselves. “A dark witch has entered my woods, putting all the fae there in danger, and we need a blessed blade to defeat her and keep my friends safe.”

  “You’ve had to tell that tale a fair few times, haven’t you,” Grisell said casually, looking entirely too amused by the entire situation.

  “Very well,” Aymon said, ignoring the Unseelie lord’s comment as he turned his gaze back to her. “Good luck with your quest. Stick to the roads and none shall bother you.” He glanced across her to the Unseelie lord. “See you on the field, Lord Grisell.”

  “Not if I see you first,” Grisell answered cheerfully.

  Glowering at the entire situation, Aymon stepped into a shadow and vanished from sight. Marsilia stared for a long moment at the shadow. How were they doing that, moving through the shadows? Yes, they were elf lords, but there had to be some magical explanation behind it—

  “You have already seen Lady Ylva, then I assume?” Grisell asked.

  “Yes,” Marsilia answered, dragging her eyes from the shadow where Aymon had disappeared.

  “You smell of magic, and not Spring’s brand,” the elf lord said, tilting his head to the side, considering her.

  “Alright, enough,” Fjell said. “We need to get moving if we want to make the Keep of Autumn before—”

  Grisell held up a finger to the dwarf, eyes still locked upon Marsilia. “What are you?” he pressed.

  Marsilia shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, all the warnings Fjell had given her rushing to the front of her mind. Likewise, her pa’s distant warnings rushed forward, reminding her that the elves of the courts could all but smell lies.

  “I’m a healer,” she finally answered, looking back down at him. “I’ve some minor skill with weather, with dispelling curses… that’s about it. I’m a white witch.”

  Tilting his head back, the Unseelie lord considered her for a long moment. “You spe
ak the truth. But that isn’t enough to defeat a dark witch.” He took a step back from her and glanced towards Fjell, considering. “Neither of you are. Oh well, best of luck.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Marsilia asked, frowning.

  Grisell inclined his head to her and took another step back, vanishing into a shadow. As he did, the roar of war surrounded them again.

  Chapter 24

  They rode for an hour before the last of the sounds of battle faded behind them. As Spring’s chill faded into Summer’s warmth, Marsilia removed her fur stole to lay across the front of her saddle and frowned, still mulling over what Lord Grisell had said. Neither of them were enough to defeat a dark witch. Did he mean on their own? Or even with the blessed blade?

  Her stomach churned with nerves she had previously settled. He was just one elf lord. What did he know? Aside from an obvious knowledge of magic and battles.

  Yet didn’t Fjell have at least some of that knowledge as well? He’d fought a warlock before. If he thought they could do this, wasn’t that worth more than an elf lord who’d only glanced at them in passing?

  “Ye alright back there?” Fjell asked over his shoulder. “Ye’ve been quiet since we left the Fields.”

  “Yes,” Marsilia sighed. “Just frustrated by that elf lord saying we can’t do this. What does he know of us or our abilities?” Screwing up her face, she put on her best elven accent. “Oh well, best of luck.”

  Chuckling, the dwarf guided his mount to side step and slow, so that Marsilia could come alongside him. “Thank ye, by the by.”

  “For what?” she asked, glancing up at him in confusion.

  “For knocking that haughty Seelie lord down a notch or two,” he said, glancing down at her with a fleeting smirk before looking ahead again.

  “You’re welcome,” she answered, but gave him an irritated glance. “You didn’t help matters by insulting him after his apology, though.”

  “Eh,” Fjell answered with a shrug, but at her continued frown he sighed. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry I was petty. Even if it felt damned good in the moment.”

  Shaking her head in exasperation, a flicker of a smile still crossed her face. “You’re incorrigible.”

  The dwarf just grinned in reply.

  They rode on into midafternoon, sharing idle chatter below the thick green forest canopy of Summer. Summer’s woods reminded her so much of her home. Great stands of maple and birch sheltered trickling streams and deep moss. Butterflies flitted amongst the sporadic flowers while plum and wild apple trees hung low with the weight of their fruit. Sprawling blackberry vines dotted the sides of the road, loaded with berries.

  The dwarf and witch ignored the temptation of them all. No warning was needed; to take from the elven lands was to bind yourself to them. As little as her pa had taught her about the Seelie and Unseelie elves, even Marsilia knew and understood that.

  They stopped by a stream for their lunch, allowing their mountain goats to water, but careful not to allow them to even nibble the grass of Queen Titania’s land. Instead, they laid out cloths full of tart berries for the goats - a kind addition to their lunches from Spring’s stablehands.

  Their own lunches consisted of soft-ripened cheese, fresh bread, and perfectly ripened wild strawberries.

  “How often do you think pa traveled this road,” Marsilia asked, breaking the silence of their meal.

  Fjell glanced up, looking down the road, then shook his head. “Not often, I’d imagine. From the tales I’ve heard, he wandered the Fields of Reversal with ease.”

  “That red mud field where the battle was taking place?” Marsilia asked, frowning.

  “Aye,” he said, pressing a slice of soft cheese and a strawberry between two clumps of bread to make a sandwich. “The elven courts fight there every spring and autumn, each trying to either keep their season longer, or make their incoming season approach faster. Yer pa would wander the Field in those times of turmoil, healing those who were left behind to suffer as the battles moved on. A noble gesture, sparing them pain, but rather pointless in the end.”

  “How is healing pointless?” she frowned as he popped the improvised sandwich into his mouth. “They could die without treatment.”

  Swallowing back the food, he shrugged. “Aye, and come back within the week. Ye see, the Seelie and Unseelie elves are the only true immortals of this realm. When they die, they are reborn as they were before - sometimes in a day, sometimes longer - but they never remain dead. So, while what yer pa did was a kindness to those who were suffering, it wasn’t a dire need.”

  Marsilia frowned, toying with a strawberry. “I disagree,” she said, looking up at him. “Any lessening of suffering in the world is a worthy cause.”

  “I would normally agree, but they do this every few months, over and over, always coming back. It never ends.” He frowned, shaking his head. “Seems pretty pointless.”

  “Who are we to judge what must be some part of their nature?” Marsilia countered. “A wolf hunts a deer, yet if I find a wolf injured, should I not help it, knowing it will continue to hunt and kill? Even here in the Fae Realm, everything has a nature, a drive. Those following that natural course shouldn’t be left to suffer for no reason. I can think of no greater place for Pa to spend his talent than such a field. Besides, I’m sure he learned a great deal from treating so many wounds, and it’s what helped make him such an accomplished healer.”

  They ate in silence for a long moment more, for once, Fjell eating slower than her as he mulled over some unspoken thoughts. As Marsilia began to fold the waxed cloth her lunch had been wrapped in, he glanced over to her.

  “What do ye think my purpose is, then, if everything has a nature?” he asked, frowning in consideration.

  Marsilia studied her dwarven companion for a long moment before speaking. “I think that many would say it’s craftsmanship or fighting, but from everything I’ve seen from you… I’d say protection. You’re a guardian by nature, putting yourself between others and danger, or keeping those under your charge from wandering off to an ill-fated path.”

  A small smile pulled at his face as he folded the cloth from his own lunch. “Thank ye,” he said, standing and offering her a hand up. “I think I needed to hear that.”

  Accepting the hand up, she stared back up at him. “And what would you say my nature is?”

  Fjell hesitated before releasing her hand and turning back to their mounts. He spoke without looking at her as he gathered their goats’ reins. “Yer nature is light and bringing hope, Marsilia, be that through words or healing - often both.” He cast a smirk back over his shoulder at her. “And giving too damned much.”

  The witch felt her cheeks flush. “I thought it was the only thing worthy of our quest,” she said defensively.

  Fjell laughed, turning their mounts so that he could help her into the saddle. “Aye, I figured. But I’ll handle the next one.” He paused before her, looking down at her with an affectionate smile. “Half and half, since we’re in this together, aye?”

  Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Marsilia pushed down her embarrassment and smiled back up at him with a nod. “Aye,” she said, doing a poor imitation of his accent.

  Nevertheless, he laughed as he lifted with her such ease into her saddle.

  Chapter 25

  Fjell spotted the first few yellow leaves in the trees late that afternoon. As they continued down the road, a cool breeze eased Summer’s heat and the blackberry vines gave way to laden elderberry bushes and bunches of golden wheat. Ahead, every tree was bedecked in autumn brilliance, displaying gold and orange, crimson and deep purple.

  As soon as the dazzling colors came into view, Fjell glanced aside to Marsilia. Her face lit up at the sight, blue eyes widening, a smile blossoming across her lips. He couldn’t help smiling at her infectious joy, her awe at the sights of the Fae Realm.

  She turned to him, but words died on her lips to find him watching her and her smile faded to an uncertain sh
adow of what it had just been.

  “What?” she asked, looking at him in confusion.

  “Nothing,” he shrugged, half watching the road, half watching the witch. “I just like seeing ye light up when ye spy pretty scenery.”

  Marsilia blushed and tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear as she looked back ahead. “Well… it is beautiful here.”

  “Aye,” Fjell answered, smiling to himself as he turned his gaze fully ahead. “Ye’ll have another hour or so to bask in it before we arrive at the Keep of Autumn.”

  Saying those last few words sobered him. The Keep of Autumn. He’d meant to ask Lady Ylva about the new Lady of Autumn, but with all that had happened, he never got a chance. He hated heading into the unknown like this, with only rumors surrounding a person of power he was to meet.

  What sort of woman did it take to stand up to Queen Mab and steal her General away? Clever, brave, most likely stubborn and unbending. The letter Lady Ylva had sent ahead would hopefully help smooth their introduction and request, even if the new Lady had heard of his fall.

  He was certain she would have heard of it, too. The elf lord they’d encountered at the Fields of Reversal had known him by name, but he’d never seen the lord before. How far spread were the rumors of his misdeeds? Was that why Lady Ylva had cast the bones, had told him of their portent and warned him to let the truth be known?

  Fjell couldn’t help but feel it must be something more than his own reputation that would cause her to give such a warning. A frown crept across his face as he considered. There were others who could cast the bones; others who could give insight. The only question was if they would do so for him.

  Shoving that line of thought aside, he looked over to find Marsilia still smiling gently at the autumn glory of leaves overhead and around them. The dark cast ebbing upon his heart lightened as he watched her - the gentle curve of her small smile, the wide-eyed wonder that still lit her face.