by Faith Naff
Sparrow’s wings carried her over to the crudely erected tavern. If she was going to introduce herself to the human world, she could think of no better place to do it than a tavern where people were already in a good mood. There were establishments like this in Windsong, but with a far different atmosphere. Sweet smelling perfumes always filled the air of the taverns back home. The songs played there were quiet and peaceful, serving as a canvas upon which delightful conversations could be painted. Here, the music was loud and ruckus. The patrons sang along—poorly—while slapping their legs and clapping their hands. Human males shoved each other playfully while the women tried to pass off drunken stumbling as dancing. Everyone was dirty, smelling of the hard work performed from dawn until now. It all felt so barbaric, so uncivilized.
At least they were having fun.
Sparrow gently glided through the crowd and landed on the bar. There was an old man on the other side, standing in front of three large barrels erected sideways on wooden stilts. Like everyone else she’d come across, his eyes locked onto her as soon as she came into his view. She lowered her hood, but kept her eyes focused on no one in particular.
“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” the barkeep said.
As much as she wanted to just keep to herself, Sparrow knew she would have to interact with the locals. “Can I get something to drink?” she asked.
The barkeep put his hands out to his sides. “I’m afraid I don’t have a cup your size.”
Sparrow smiled as she reached into the bag strapped to her side. She retrieved a cup carved from the shell of a hickory nut. “No need to worry,” she said. “I come prepared.”
Rather reluctantly, the barkeep took the tiny cup in his thumb and index finger. He brought it under the tap of the nearest barrel and let a few drops fall from the spout into the cup. Very carefully, he returned to the bar and handed the cup to Sparrow. “There you go,” he said.
“My thanks,” she said. “What do I owe you?”
The old man chuckled. “Owe me?” he asked. “Little faerie, I’ll spill more ale in an hour than you could drink in a day. It’s no trouble.”
Sparrow smiled at him as she raised her cup in a gesture of gratitude.
“I have to ask though,” the barkeep continued. “What in Lady’s name is a faerie doing in Meadowgold?”
Instead of answering, Sparrow went to take a sip of her drink. She’s been pondering the lie she’d prepare for this question all day, and she still hadn’t come up with anything that would sound convincing. Claiming to be a messenger was the easiest story, but messenger faeries never lingered in the cities they visited, and certainly didn’t pack so many belongings. Being put on the spot wasn’t making her mind work any faster. Luckily for her, a commotion from the other end of the open-air tavern stole everyone’s attention.
Out near the road, an inebriated patron stood upon a wobbly chair. “Everyone, quiet down!” he slurred. “I got something to say.” All eyes were upon him, though more seemed interested in the impending spectacle of seeing him fall than hearing his speech. The musicians put away their instruments and the tavern went quiet. The drunken man on the chair raised his wooden mug, letting a bit of the ale within slosh out on the ground. “My parents raised me to always honor the Lady. I says my prayers every night. And when the bally…baily…bbbalisekts attacked, I put my faith in Her that everything would be alright.”
The other patrons chanted in unified agreement. Sparrow was rather amazed by this sight. Even though Lady worship had increased greatly over the last few generations of humans, the other species—hers included—still didn’t see them as greatly devout. After all, how can you claim to honor the Lady of the Forest when your ancestors spent hundreds of years clearing away the trees? Still, it did her heart good to see the human race being so open to Her presence.
“Even with all my faith, I never thought I’d see the day Meadowgold would have its own high priestess,” the man continued. Another chorus of cheers sounded throughout the tavern. The drunken man raised his cup into the air, spilling more of the ale, which ran down his arm. “To Lady Viyana!” he shouted triumphantly.
“Here, here!” the crowd chanted together. Everyone drank together.
“And to our new high priestess, on her way from Tranqu…Trainqu…from the Temple!” the man shouted again. The crowd of tavern patrons responded again just before the music resumed. The man tried to step off of his chair, but it toppled beneath him and he crashed to the ground.
Sparrow turned back towards the barkeep. The Lady certainly worked in strange but wonderful ways. The perfect cover story had fallen into her lap. “So, it’s true then,” she said as humbly as she could. “Meadowgold is welcoming the first human high priestess.”
“You here for the ceremony?” the barkeep asked.
Sparrow nodded.
“Heh,” the barkeep said as he gathered up the empty cups left all around him. “I didn’t realize word had spread so fast.”
“I heard the acolytes roaming the Wilds talking about it,” she said. Of course, it wasn’t true, but now that she had a solid truth to build upon, the lies were coming easier.
“Well, I commend you for your faith and bravery, but just make sure you watch yourself,” the barkeep said. “Meadowgold isn’t really a good place for a little faerie.”
“I’m more than capable of handling myself,” Sparrow replied, trying not to sound as insulted as she felt. The bar beneath her feet shook as two, large men sat in the stools to either side of her. Their cups slammed down onto the wooden table, sending twin splashes of ale over the rims. Sparrow quickly sidestepped to avoid getting drenched.
“Is that...is that a faerie?” the man to her left asked.
The other man leaned in close. One of his eyes was as big as her head, a fact made more obvious by how close together the two were to compare. “What’s a faerie doing here?” he asked. The alcohol on his warm, wet breath made Sparrow gag. She took another sip of her drink and kept her eyes forward. “I’d prefer to drink alone, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ve never seen a faerie this close before,” the one on her left said. Sparrow continued to sip, hoping that the two men would leave if she paid them no mind. Her cup was almost to her lips when a strong force against her side nearly sent her to her knees. The cup fell from her hand as she spun around. The human’s finger was extended out, poking her in the side.
“Do you mind?!” she snapped angrily. “Is this how ladies are treated in the human world?” Neither gave a reply. Instead, Sparrow found her right wing suddenly immobilized. The human behind her had pinched her wing between his fingers. Sparrow’s heart raced as instinct kicked in. A faerie’s wings were as vital as they were fragile. To have her wing injured or removed would ground her forever, and she couldn’t allow that at any cost.
Acting without thought, Sparrow pulled a small dagger from her belt. It left the sheath dripping with poison. The tug on her wing was getting stronger. If the human kept this up, he would either pull it off or mangle it to the point of uselessness. She tilted her head to the side and tossed the dagger over her shoulder. It was a blind shot, but one she’d practiced many times during her training. The blade tumbled through the air before embedding itself in the human’s bicep.
With the blade in his skin, the poison soon went to work. His fingers released her wing as his entire body seized up. None of his muscles would follow his command. He just sat there with his arm on the table. Sparrow jumped off the bar while the human behind her fell from his stool. He crashed onto the dusty ground, still frozen in the same position he’d sat in. Sparrow flapped her wings to make sure they’d suffered no injury. Thankfully, they were both fine.
“Hey!” the other human yelled. He jumped off his stool, making it fall back and land on the ground with a loud thud. He reached out towards her with his finger spread wide. Sparrow could have avoided him effortlessly if he were stone sober, so his inebriated state just made it too easy. She
sailed over his hand, flying towards his face with her wings spread. As she hoped, the action confused him enough to make him lose his balance. The human stumbled forward and she sailed past his head.
As he fought to regain his balance, Sparrow reached behind her and retrieved a thin, wooden splinter from a tube strapped to her belt. She raced forward with the needle-like dart in hand. As the human finally regained his balance, she jabbed the splinter into the back of his neck. The human’s eyes rolled back in his head as he fell forward on his motionless companion. He was sound asleep.
“What did you do?!” the barkeep demanded.
“He’ll be fine,” she assured while returning the splinter to its pouch. Everyone in the forest knew of the faerie’s aptitude for poison making. It was the only way they could defend themselves against the larger races. Still, the poisons she’d used were far more potent and rare than a common faerie could get their hands on. She just hoped none of the humans would know that. “His muscles will start working again in about an hour, and the other will wake up before suppertime.”
Sparrow gathered up her belongings. Everyone in the tavern had their attention focused on her. The music and conversations had all stopped. Every time she moved, their eyes would follow. Sparrow could see the terror behind those eyes and it made her smile. So much for size. Even when she lowered herself down to retrieve her blade from the human’s arm, no one made a move to stop her.
She pulled the blade free and returned it to her belt. As she lifted back into the air and made her way out of the open-air tavern, the humans crowded within moved to the sides. She stood as tall as a half-used candle, yet they gave her enough room for a bear to walk through. It reminded her just how powerful she was, how powerful the faerie race could be. The moment filled her heart with pride. If only the Rose...Dewdrop...could see such a sight. Calmly and confidently, she left the tavern with a renewed dedication to her mission.
Chapter 8
When the sun came up the next morning, Ilderra’s life completely changed. She awoke in her own bed, in her own hut, but she knew it would be for the last time. Tellwyn was still asleep in the bed beside her as dawn came. Her centaurian student seemed so peaceful as she slept. It seemed rest came easy to those whose lives hadn’t been shattered. Unfortunately, Tellwyn’s rest didn’t last much longer, for there was soon a great deal of commotion in the tiny hut.
Ilderra was still stretching her muscles when a trio of human acolytes pushed past the animal skin covering her doorway. There were two men and a woman. The men carried half-filled sacks slung over their shoulders. The woman held in her hands a finely made robe of silver cloth. The small amount of light shining through the open doorway caused the fabric to shimmer.
All of the commotion caused Tellwyn to jerk violently awake. Her hooves swung out of her large bed and landed on the dirt floor. “What’s going on?” she asked groggily.
“High Priestess Ilderra, your caravan awaits,” the female acolyte said.
Ilderra felt her body go numb. It was the first time a stranger had addressed her by her new title. It was just two words, but those words landed upon her shoulders with the weight of a mountain. When her eyes opened that morning, there was a brief moment where she hoped the previous day’s events had all just been a bad dream. But it wasn’t. Her nightmare was real.
The female acolyte held out the robes towards Ilderra, bowing her head respectively in the process. As Ilderra took the garments, she studied the young girl’s face. She was remembering when she’d seen this acolyte come to the Temple. It was only two summers ago. The thought made her heart hurt, for it reminded her that there were no human priestesses in all the forest, and she was the most seasoned of all human acolytes. All of these events had come together perfectly to thrust her into this position, and she silently cursed her fate. Ilderra took the robes, giving thanks to the acolyte.
The two men stepped forward. “Let us know what belongings you wish to bring with you to Meadowgold,” the one on her right said.
“We will see them safely packed for your journey,” the other added.
“You are very kind, all of you,” she said humbly. “May I please have a moment alone to prepare?”
“Of course, high priestess,” one of the men confirmed. All three bowed before leaving the hut. In a moment, it was just Ilderra and Tellwyn again, as it used to be.
As it was meant to be.
“So, this is it then,” Tellwyn said after a deep breath.
Ilderra nodded, but gave no verbal response. She kept her eyes down, not wanting her former student to see the fear behind them. She was supposed to be a symbol of strength and surety now, a foundation upon which the entire human civilization would build their lives.
Tellwyn put her hands on Ilderra’s shoulders. “You’re going to be fine,” she said calmly. “The Lady watches over you, and will not let you fail.”
“I hope you’re right,” Ilderra said, choking back her tears. “I hope you’re right.”
Ilderra took her time getting ready. Each move she made was deliberate, each choice well planned. She thought long and hard about what she would bring, who she would say goodbye to, and how she would spend her last moments in the acolyte village. She knew her convoy was waiting to see her off to Meadowgold, but they could wait. This was her moment, and she was taking the opportunity to be selfish. The day was already half gone when she finally made it to the Temple doors. All of the seryans were there to see her off, along with many of the acolytes, priests, and priestesses still in Tranquility. Silvermist was there as well. The Grand Seryan’s smile tried in vain to mask her impatience.
“We were starting to worry if you would come at all,” Silvermist said in a half-joking tone.
“Forgive me, Great One,” Ilderra said with a bow. “There were many goodbyes to be said, and I still fear I have left some undelivered.”
“It is understandable,” Silvermist replied. “You have built quite a life here. We all thank you for your dedication and reverence in the Lady’s house of worship.”
“A great destiny awaits you,” Galdaren said. The human seryan was standing just to the left of Silvermist. It had been Ilderra’s hope that she would accompany her on her journey to Meadowgold, but she would not. She would make the trip with only a couple of acolytes at her side, acolytes who would act more as servants than companions. She wondered if she would ever get used to such a lofty station as high priestess. The very thought of commanding such authority frightened her nearly as much as the reactions she was sure to receive in Meadowgold.
Silvermist raised her hands high over her head as her eyes turned towards the clear, blue sky. “Let us bow our head in prayer,” she commanded. At her word, all heads were lowered and eyes were closed. “Great Lady of the Forest, we pray you watch over your faithful servant, Ilderra. The task before her now is one of great burden, but also of great joy. With your divine spirit ever present at her side, she will lead the human race into a new age of enlightenment. Watch over her, guide her, and let her be an instrument of your will. Blessed be.”
“Blessed be the Lady of the Forest,” everyone chanted in unison.
“Ilderra of the humans, step forward,” Silvermist instructed.
Ilderra swallowed the lump in her throat, but did as she was told. Silvermist was standing at the base of the bridge leading up to the Temple, placing her slightly higher than all in attendance. The warm sunshine sparkled against Ilderra’s new silver robes. She’d never worn anything so fine in all her life. Once dressed, two of the acolytes returned to her hut in order to braid her hair. It had taken nearly an hour to complete, but the results were as lovely as they were intricate. Yellow and pink flowers were woven into the braids. It made her feel as beautiful as a dryad, but did nothing to calm her spirit.
With the former acolyte standing before her, Silvermist extended her right hand. Her draping sleeve fell down to her waist. Ilderra closed her eyes as the Grand Seryan pressed three fingers against her forehead. �
��By the Lady’s blessing, I bestow upon you the title of high priestess. A new dawn for the human tribe rises with you. Blessed be.”
“Blessed be the Lady of the Forest,” the crowd chanted again.
“I am grateful,” Ilderra lied. She’d cried all her tears, but it did nothing to extinguish her doubt. Nonetheless, she was in the public eye from this moment onward, and every face she’d wear from now on would be a mask.
Silvermist raised her hands high over her head as Ilderra stepped away. “A new chapter in the history of Her forest begins today. Go now, High Priestess Ilderra of Meadowgold. Go to your people and guide them in the ways of the Lady. Do Her work, knowing the Temple stands with you.”
“You are too kind, Grand Seryan,” Ilderra replied. With those final words, she turned towards the north. The crowd of acolytes, priests, and priestesses parted to the sides, revealing the path before her. The forest ahead was still blackened and hollow looking from the battle and this would be her third trip through it in only a few days. However, she knew that the Lady’s beauty lay just beyond the charred stretch of trees, and that gave her soul some comfort. She decided to let that be her reminder that things would be alright. The life she was entering seemed dark and hopeless, but better things lay just out of sight. All she had to do was keep moving forward and she’d get there.
Ilderra’s gaze was taken by a group of horses being led through the crowd towards her. They were beautiful animals, one in particular catching her eye. It was as white as snow and dappled with large, black spots. The animals were already saddled and ready for a long journey.
“Grand Seryan, are we to ride these?” Ilderra asked unsurely.
Silvermist chuckled. “Of course. The first high priestess to the humans is making her way to Meadowgold. The entrance must be grand and memorable.”
Ilderra reached out and stroked the white horse’s nose. She’d never ridden a horse before, but she’d always wanted to. Everything about her new title had made her feel lost, helpless, and afraid. This was the first change that had filled her with joy. “Thank you,” she said softly.
