Gwenth wanted to ask, made as if to ask, but then wondered if she would be worse off knowing and so she hesitated, her mouth which had been open, closed and she began to turn inward again.
Reval knew what the girl wanted to know, needed to know really, leaning forward and squeezing Gwenth’s hand gently. “Yes child, it’s true, you are from the line of Fey and what’s more so is every other human. It is in part why you are so drawn to the Fey lad.”
Gwenth pulled her hand back, as if she had been burned by the words, but her eyes acknowledged the truth. Pushing her chair back she rose up on wobbly legs. “I think I need to lie down,” she said.
Meredith rose to as if to make her way to help the child, but Hectain reached out and grabbed her sister’s sleeve. Hectain blinked and the child was tucked into bed, the sisters all standing around Meredith’s bedstead. Meredith blushed; she had again forgotten magic was possible. Reaching down, she gently pushed Gwenth’s hair back from her face. “Sleep now, you will feel like your old self soon enough,” she said.
Gwenth smiled wanly at Meredith before she was drawn away into the land of sleep.
Innocence Lost
In the dead of night the guards sent word to the council that Ricter was back. His home tree had become agitated, the guard on watch, was admitted by the tree; inside he had found Ricter lying on the floor, unconscious and bleeding, one wing broken and his body was caught, apparently trapped half in the shape of a bear.
Sephoria, the best healer in the land, was dispatched by the council, to tend to the injured Fey. The guards were put on notice that no one except the inner council and the healer would be allowed within Ricter’s quarters and the tree itself was charged, that no magic of any kind was to be allowed with the exception of the healer of course.
Thru the darkness, the inner council of five made their way from their homes to the Great Rowan, where, one by one, they were admitted, by the caregivers.
“I ask, what are we to assume from all this? There’s a traitor in our midst! I simply refuse to believe Ricter, had anything to do with all this trouble,” Council member Jafe exclaimed, as he flitted about the Rowan’s chamber.
One of the Rowan’s caregivers hurried about dispensing sacred water to the inner five, but Jafe continued to flit about the chamber, making it difficult for the caregiver to catch up with him and give him the water.
Suddenly the door opened and Sephoria, flanked by six of her women, was carried in. “I beg the council’s pardon, but I have used quite a great store of magical energy trying to heal Ricter, and since it is a matter of urgency, I asked some of my assistants to bring me here,” Sephoria said. She was gently settled upon a chair by her students. “Go back to the college and rest, I may be here a long while.” The women bowed, and then flew out past the council members and through the open door, a caregiver held for them.
“We are glad to have your council wise one. The Rowan was just saying that Ricter has been away from our world. Do your findings bear this out,” Lindel asked, bowing low to the wise woman?
“What? What’s this… the Great Rowan has spoken? Why didn’t I hear anything?”
The four members looked up at Jafe and then pointed silently to the beleaguered keeper hovering below with the cup of sacred water.
Jafe flushed, “Well why didn’t you say so boy,” he said, flitting down to where the boy hovered. Jafe grabbed the cup and hastily swallowed the water in one quick gulp. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he clapped the cup back on the platter and turned smiling towards the others. “Ah that’s better. Hello Great One,” he said, bowing low, toward the empty seat that was recognized as the heart of the Rowan.
Lindel rolled his eyes; he silently wondered how a Fey such as this had come to be part of the inner circle?
The Rowan voice rang out in Lindel’s mind. “It was my idea, long ago I thought to calm him by offering him more responsibility. As you can see, the experiment has not been successful.”
Lindel smiled and bowed his head slightly in recognition of the Rowan sharing a private thought.
Jafe turned and looked at the Sephoria, “I believe you have been asked a question? Will you not answer it?”
Sephoria laughed easily, “I see council member, that you have not yet learned any manners. I will, for the time being, allow your impudence, however if you do not reign yourself in, I shall let my students teach you just how much you transgress.”
Jafe fluttered nervously up off the floor. “Yes I… I am sorry holy one,” Jafe said.
“Good! Now sit down and stop that flitting about. This is certainly no time for nerves.”
Jafe’s ears turned a reddish color, but he settled quietly into a chair formed from the Rowan itself.
“Now,” Sephoria said turning towards the group. “It is true what the Rowan says; Ricter has been away from this world. He reeks of another world and he has been shape shifting. The guard said when he found Ricter he was half bear. He must have continued to shift, for when I arrived there were only course brown hairs buried at the edge of his wounds. I have done all I can for him, but he is in a very bad way. Whatever he came up against was very powerful. Also, another of the Dembys is gone missing. That is four all told.”
Jafe blanched as he listened to the wise one speak. “Is there any fear that whatever Ricter faced could be amongst us now?”
Sephoria looked over at the Fey, and silently considered him for a moment, while in her mind the Rowan’s voice rang out like a clear bell. “He knows more than he is sharing, but you know that don’t you?”
Sephoria knew she need not answer the Rowan and so turned to answer Jafe. “Well I can’t rule out the possibility,” she said, letting a little worry creep into her voice. “Of course, I suppose I could say better if I knew what we were up against,” she said looking hard at Jafe.
Jafe seemed to pale, losing much of his deep blue color, his skin began to turn a washed out grey.
Lindel jumped across the open space between himself and Jafe. “You know something don’t you? You know where my boy is as well, don’t you,” he yelled. Lindel’s hands locked tight around Jafe’s neck.
Jafe frightened as he was fought back, trying to break Lindel’s hold. He flung himself against the Rowan’s inner wall trying to loosen Lindel’s grip, but Lindel hung on. Jafe flung himself into the midst of the other councilors hoping for assistance. Detsen and Ronin rushed forward struggling to break Lindel’s hold. Ronin tried using magic to force the two apart, but LIndel’s hold was complete. Jafe could feel his life stream faltering, and yet Lindel would give no ground. Suddenly it was over, Lindel released his grip on the Fey and flew wearily across the room, running his shaking hands through his hair as he went.
Jafe sat on the floor trying to catch his breath. His throat hurt, he coughed raggedly. Every breath hurt. He cleared his throat and tried to rise, but found his legs too unsteady to hold himself upright. He pointed at Lindel as he turned toward the others, “Did you see that? He tried to kill me? He is condemned by his own actions!”
Ronin and Detsen hovered, speechless, as they struggled to grasp all that had just transpired. They turned nearly in unison, and looked beseechingly from Sephoria to the seat of the Great Rowan.
Sephoria sat in shock, she was seeing something in all her thousands of years that she had never before seen, a Fey trying to hurt another Fey. She understood that this was just another sign, of the end of their world. Her heart went out to Lindel. Yes, Lindel had broken sacred law, but Ricter had broken that law first, when he attacked Briok. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at Jafe, he clearly knew much more than he was saying about Ricter.
A keeper slipped across the room and brought first Jafe, and then Lindel a cup of healing drink. The councilors each took the cup they were offered.
Lindel’s head hung low and his hands shook as he tried to lift the cup to his mouth. The hot drink warmed him some and seemed to steady him, but the heart had gone out of him. He was afraid his son was lost
forever and he also felt the welling up of shame of knowing he had tried to kill another.
Suddenly the Rowan’s voice was in his mind, calling him back to the circle of five. He looked up and all but Jafe had opened their arms to him. He limped back across the room and bowed low to each member including Jafe. “I am here to serve,” his voice was nothing more than a whisper.
Jafe jumped up and began to move towards Lindel. Detsen pulled his squat legs in and rolled himself quickly in front of Jafe, blocking his way. “I demand you move out of the way councilor.”
Detsen held his ground. “No Jafe, you have done enough harm,” his voice rumbled.
Ronin leaned down and picked up Jafe by his shoulders, holding the Fey out at limb’s length. “I believe you have something you want to tell us councilor Jafe,” he said, as he gave the councilman a little shake.
Jafe tried to flee but Ronin’s grip was strong. “Not so fast my old friend,” the tree chuckled. “The Rowan says you have a tale to share, and share it you will or I will throw you from the cliff myself.”
Jafe hung limply in the old cedar’s grip; his wings began losing their bright color. The Fey was willing himself to die, to pass on right now, before their very eyes.
“Coward,” yelled Lindel! “You would rather die than save our world! You are a coward!”
Jafe’s agitation grew and he rallied. A great shiver went through his body, the group gasped out loud and suddenly Jafe flung himself forward. His wings tore, ripping loose, from their sockets, as he freed himself from the tree’s grasp. Jafe plunged to his death, landing at the feet of the Cedar.
The inner circle watched in shock as the Fey lay dying before them. Each of the members felt their inner peace falter, as they looked upon the broken and bloody body of the fallen Jafe. Their birthright, the peace that all tribes had once taken for granted, was now at the mercy of their damaged souls.
The caregivers’ voices rose in a shrill keening, and the land underfoot began to rumble and shake. No one had ever died on this sacred ground.
Then the voices of both the Rowan and the Sephoria were speaking clearly in all their minds, bringing the council members back to the present. “Do not look upon him any longer. Come back from your grief. Though he may truly be the worst of us, we need honor his death. No member of the realm shall die without a proper sending off. Even this one, though he surely has had a hand in this great deception, which threatens to tear our world apart. Pull yourselves together now. We know your hearts are weary and heavy, but gather your families and let them heal this offense against your souls.”
The three council members looked first to the Rowan and then to Sephoria and then to one another. It was clear to them all what they had lost on this important day, and what part they had each played in its losing.
“I will send students with healings, to each of you,” Sephoria said. “Go now to your homes, and prepare for tonight. It is a tragic day, but we must continue our duty and so we must each find our way through this ordeal.”
“You must be vigilant, you cannot allow yourselves to perish out of grief, or guilt,” the Rowan’s voice sang out in a low rumble of comfort in the group’s mind. “As for Ricter, he is under the care of Sephoria’s students; they will heal him and we may yet learn how to help our world. Go now in peace.”
Rescued
It was the darkest part of the night, before Briok felt it was safe enough to come out of hiding. He had watched from a safe distance as James was interned in the cellar, and he had seen the magistrate hang up his heavy chain of keys in the small room just off the entrance to the building, as he left for the evening. Taking care, Briok flew down from the balcony through the darkness; his eye sight was well-adjusted to the lack of light. Carefully he opened the door to the small room and flitted in. Hovering near the wall he felt for the keys. He nearly cried out when he ran his hand into a sharp hook. Feeling carefully along the line of hooks, the keys seemed to be missing. Anxiously he continued to search the room for the keys. Finally he realized, the keys were gone and he would have to find another way to get James out.
Silently Briok flew through the back of the chamber and down the long hallway and into the kitchen. His instincts were instantly on alert. The room felt warmer and though it was dark Briok knew by the sound, someone was in there, sleeping. Flying up near to to ceiling, Briok could see a curled body lying near the banked fire. He flew down cautiously, slowing his wing beats, so as not to disturb the air. Lying near the fireplace on her pallet was the old woman who earlier had cooked the meal for the magistrate. Though she appeared fast asleep, with her snores ringing throughout the room, Briok still approached cautiously. Setting down next to the old woman’s pallet; he steeled himself, and ever so carefully reached out to take the keys. He could see they hung from a piece of braided leather tied about the cook’s neck. Briok slowly lifted the small bundle of keys which lay upon the old woman’s bosom and released the clasp. The cook slept on.
Stepping away, Briok lifted off, and flew silently to the cellar door and as quietly as was possible tried each of the half dozen keys in the lock. The last key fit and he turned the lock gently, when it clicked he stopped to listen and make sure the old woman was still snoring and then when he was assured she was still asleep, he pulled the door open and slipped inside.
Briok flew down the cellar stairs and followed along the great stone wall till he reached a second door. Once again he tried keys until he found the correct fit and quickly unlocked the door and pulled it quietly open. Briok flew silently through the opening.
Suddenly there came a rush from his right and Briok was tackled to the floor. Rough hands pulled him over and then the tussle stopped just as suddenly, for by the light of the stars Briok could see James bending over him with a great slab of stone in his hand, ready to bludgeon him.
“My God lad, what are you doing here? I nearly took your life,” James said, setting the heavy stone down upon the stone floor. Reaching down he took Briok’s arm and pulled the boy up to a sitting position.
“I followed the old woman this morning from your cottage, and so I was here when they locked you up. I’ve been waiting to release you.” Briok stood and carefully felt along his shoulders to see if his wings had been greatly hurt.
“In God’s name, are those wings?”
“Aye, they are sir,” Briok said, as he felt along their edges.
“I don’t understand,” James’ voice trailed off.
“It is a rather long story sir; perhaps we could discuss it after we get out of here, if we can get out of here.”
“Ah point well taken lad, but let me lead the way, I don’t want anyone else hurting you, if I can help it.”
Briok nodded and they turned as one and hurried out through the cell door. “Let’s close and lock this, though it may not be necessary but it might buy us some time once day breaks,” Briok said, as he turned to close the door.
“Good idea lad,” James whispered. He turned the key gently in the lock till they both heard the click.
“Upstairs the cook is sleeping, the keys are hers,” Briok whispered, as James climbed the stairs and Briok flew up right behind him.
James nodded and hurried up the stone stairs to the cellar door. Sure enough, the cook could be heard snoring as he neared the door. James stopped, and listened a moment before slipping through the doorway. Across the room he could see the old woman wrapped in her thin blanket, sound asleep in front of the banked fire. James stepped back into the stairwell. “Let’s take the keys with us, the front door may be locked and it will slow them down some if they have to wait for the magistrate to arrive in the morning to feed me.”
Briok realized that was in fact a very good idea and he was happy, to not need to sneak so close to the cook’s pungent breath, in order to return the keys.
Once again, James went through the door into the kitchen and Briok followed behind his wings beating shallowly, moving the air as little as was possible. James silently locked
the cellar door. He then slipped quietly across the kitchen, and out into the long hall. He made his way quickly to the front room and to the closed shutters, where he peeked outside. The street lay dark and quiet. No sentries had been placed, which was a good thing, for he could not out run musket fire. James turned to the lad, “Alright lad I’m going to open the door, and try to get to the alley, which runs parallel to the main road. Can you fly up high enough to warn me of any coming trouble?”
“Yes, I will, of course,” Briok whispered back.
James clapped Briok on the shoulder, “Good lad, let’s get home as fast as we can, but once we are out of town you must fly lower and tell me your tale.”
Briok shook his head in agreement, and James stood back to let the boy pass into the street where he temporarily disappeared.
James stood waiting quietly in the dark. The thought of a boy with wings was almost too much to comprehend, but if this was his salvation he would not foolishly waste it.
Briok dropped down and hovered silently in front of James. He quietly waved him forward. James slipped through the door, closing and locking it behind himself. Then turning he fled down the dirt path to the alley. He was surprised and happy that none of the town dogs took any notice of him as he made his way through the town. As he came out of the alleyway into the road, he looked up and checked the sky. Yes, there was Briok flying overhead looking to all the world, as if he were an angel traveling through the star strewn heavens. James ran on until he had put several hills between himself and the village. Slowly to a trot at last, he waved to Briok.
REALM'S END (BOOK OF FEY 1) Page 23
