by Ren Curylo
She hoped someday to increase her skills enough that she could scry with sounds. It would be a lot more helpful if she could hear their conversations. She was already improving in all the training she was putting herself through. It would pay off in the end.
She channeled her anger into the bowl of scrying fluid and felt the power surge through her as she gripped the gnarled, silver hands cradling the bowl. The surface of the fluid smoothed over like ice on a glassy pond. Then it rippled and shook before growing still and calm once more. Slowly, an image faded in before her. It was Prince Caolán’s bedroom, she realized. Though by now, he must be King Caolán. She recognized his large feather bed. They had lain there together many nights, after dinner, before their engagement announcement. Though she had remained fully clothed, he had managed to pull her long full skirts up enough to unfasten her undergarments. He said there was no need for either of them to disrobe to have a bit of fun.
Chéile frowned at the thought of it. It hadn’t been much fun for her. Not like what she did with Ársa. Ársa was a much better lover than Caolán. She declared to her parents and to Ársa that she was pure, that Caolán had never touched her, but it was a lie. He had ‘done her’ several times. That was his name for it, ‘doing her’. As if she was merely a prop and not a participant. She supposed, as she watched the scene clarify in her scrying bowl, that he truly viewed her that way. It seems that’s all I was to him. She wondered if he had ever intended to marry her.
The door of Caolán’s chamber opened and laughter filled Chéile’s room. She gasped as she realized she could hear them. How did that happen? I certainly couldn’t hear Ársa and his little whore. Chéile watched and listened as King Caolán and his bride entered their bedchamber, touching each other lovingly and laughing at a private joke.
She watched them undress one another. Though her stomach knotted, she couldn’t make herself break the spell. She continued watching as Ly’wyn’tas touched, kissed, and sucked Caolán in places that would make a real queen blush.
Chéile jealously noted that Caolán seemed quite taken with Ly’wyn’tas as he had never been with her. After removing her top, the slender Elfin woman had faced her husband, showing Chéile only her backside. His bride’s naked body captivated him, whereas he had never wanted to see Chéile completely naked after the first time. She stared at Ly’wyn’tas as she lay on Caolán’s bed with him. The girl was young, at least twenty or thirty years younger than Chéile, and she was reed thin. She looked far more like a boy than a girl, for she had a straight waist and tiny breasts. Her breasts were hard little knots on her bony chest. Chéile could almost count the girl’s ribs.
Her usurper had golden blonde hair, cut in a short bob at jaw level, with straight bangs at her eyebrows. She had blue eyes, much darker than Chéile’s pale white-blue ones. She had a long, straight nose, far too prominent for a well-bred Elfin woman. She had a big mouth, too, and a strong, square jaw, Chéile noted derisively as she watched them cavorting together.
Chéile told herself she didn’t want to see this but she couldn’t look away. She sat, staring into her bowl in morbid fascination. After a bit, she realized they were talking about her, making fun of her. Ly’wyn’tas was joking about Chéile’s enormous breasts. She knew they were unusual for an Elfin woman. Even most of the women on Na Réaltaí don’t have assets that large. It had never occurred to her that they would be a point of ridicule. And she certainly felt ridiculed watching the two of them making jokes about her body.
Ly’wyn’tas opened the nightstand drawer and withdrew the headpiece Chéile had been wearing on the day Caolán had jilted her for this scrawny boy-girl. She put the crown on and pretended to snatch it off, screaming with laughter and leaving her hair sticking up in odd disarray.
Chéile’s shoulders sagged and her hands went up as if to shield her ponderous breasts from view. She whimpered as she watched them both cackle with glee at her expense. Unable to stand anymore, she slapped the bowl from the table, showering the room with scrying fluid, and sending the silver bowl flying into the wall. It struck with a loud ringing sound and landed with a bounce on her side of the bed she shared with her philandering husband.
As she stared at the bowl slowly spinning on her bed, the desire to make them pay for their sport of her rose and wrapped itself around her heart. Her eyes narrowed as she dwelled on her former lover and his bride. She walked to the bed and picked up the bowl. I’m tired of hiding who I am. Rather than hide the bowl away, she made room for it on the display shelf against the wall behind the desk. She corked up the rest of her scrying fluid in her ornate bottle and set it on the shelf beside her sterling bowl.
She strode to her closet and dressed in a dark, tight-fitting suit that closely resembled Ársa’s uniform. It was solid black where his uniforms were black and shades of grey. She slipped on black, flat-bottomed knee boots and ran out of her bedchamber. She hurriedly made her way down to the Transportation Room where she could travel to Lerien from one of the many portals there. She chose one and focused on her destination. She felt herself waver as if she were a reflection in a pond.
She came solid outside the Elfin palace where the king lay with his wife. The hour was late and everyone was abed. She looked around the village she had lived in all her life until recently. It was so familiar to her and yet so foreign. She remembered the village they had lived in on the old world. That one had been all carved stone, ancient and beautiful. This one was mostly wooden. They had planned to build another stone city, but that had never happened even though they had been here a thousand years.
Chéile smiled but her eyes were cold. She would never be able to do this if they had a stone city. She hoped she destroyed them all. She held out her hands, palm upward and focused all her energy into them. Her hands grew warm, then hot, and soon began to glow red. Flames leapt off her palms and rose level with her cold blue eyes. Without warning, she hurled her handful of flame into the wooden structure that housed the Elfin king. It caught, greedily licking at the dry boards.
Chéile blew a fierce gust of air, fanning them, adding fury to the already hotly burning fire. The flames licked out and sparks flew on the wind to land on the next structure, hungrily taking root and burning everything they touched. She blew again and fanned the flames she had created until nearly every building in Lasahala Run was aflame. The heat was too much for her to stand and she reeled back from it, breaking her concentration for the first time. The moment she was ready to Travel, she looked up and saw Enric staring at her with cold assessing eyes. He shook his head but quickly turned his attention to rousing others from sleep.
She smiled at him with cold delight before she Traveled back to the safety of Ársa’s bedroom on Na Réaltaí. It pleased her to learn that Traveling back required no special portal as Traveling to the surface of Lerien did. It made escaping from danger so much easier.
5 days later
Phaedrus 7, 762
Moriko Moriko sighed and scratched her head distractedly. She stared into the fire as she roasted a rabbit. She was deep in the woods in Larandir Province on Til’gaviel. Five days had passed since Ársa had visited her at Pine Mountain Pond. Every time he visited her, it made her heart ache with joy, followed by sorrow when he went away. He terrified her and he made her soul sing.
She shook her head as if arguing with her own thoughts. Ársa is scary and dangerous. He’ll break my heart. I’m only truly happy when he’s with me. The time when he’s gone feels empty. He scares me.
Moriko frowned and moved the rabbit off the flames. She scraped it from the spit onto a tin pan she had pulled from her pack. His life is Na Réaltaí and traveling around. Mine is here, in the forests. I can’t live in Na Réaltaí.
She reasoned with herself, she argued with herself but it always came back to one fact she couldn’t deny: she loved him. She believed that in his own wayward fashion he loved her, too. Besides, what would change if they became lovers? Nothing. We’d still see each other the same amount,
maybe even more often because he’d know where I am more of the time. I wouldn’t have to hide from him anymore. He said he’d be true if I agreed to be his. Maybe it’s time to trust him, give in, and move forward with him. One thing is certain, there will never be anyone I love more than I love Ársa.
Moriko leaned against a large rock, tore off a chunk of roasted rabbit, and ate it. She continued to think of Ársa and her relationship with him, or lack of, mulling over the situation until she had finished her meal.
She decided to leave her camp here, in its current state. She’d come back later, after she settled things with Ársa. She put out her fire and washed her hands in water from her canteen. She Traveled to Na Réaltaí, the first time she’d visited there in at least five years.
Nothing has changed. She looked around her in disgust. Someone dusted her chamber regularly, she noted. She kept nothing personal or important to her in this room; it was a bare, austere bedchamber. She hadn’t slept in a real bed in that same five years. I guess I’d better get used to it. Ársa has a fondness for comfort. He’s not going to like sleeping on the ground all the time.
She checked her closet. There were clean uniforms hanging within. She took a quick shower and changed into one. It hugged her small, muscular frame perfectly. She left her tattered, dirty one on the bathroom floor. Whatever servant cared for her chamber would tend it and either repair it or replace it
She decided to Travel to Ársa’s hallway instead of walking, since she wasn’t in the mood for company, and she knew this time of night, the Droichead would be packed with other crewmembers being sociable, drinking, and playing games. She had nothing to say to any of them and she wasn’t interested in drinking.
Moriko came solid in the hallway outside Ársa’s door. The only other occupied rooms in this branch of Na Réaltaí belonged to his sister, Anoba, and his cousins, Gealach, Ída, and Oseyan. She wasn’t likely to encounter one of them. Oseyan spent only slightly more time in Na Réaltaí than she did and Gealach worked nights. She had always gotten along well with Anoba and she didn’t mind running into her unexpectedly, so she didn’t bother to render herself invisible.
She lifted a curled hand to knock as raised voices filtered through the door. It was clearly a woman’s voice, raised in anger. “Who is she, you son of a bitch?” the woman shouted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chéile,” Ársa said. Moriko could hear how strained his voice was. He was trying to be calm.
“I know you’re seeing someone, Ársa, so you may as well tell me who she is.”
Ársa said something but Moriko couldn’t understand it. His voice was muffled and he spoke in low tones.
Moriko’s mind raced trying to understand what she was hearing. Who is this woman? Why does she think she has the right to question Ársa?
Deciding she didn’t want to know anymore and that she was a fool for coming here, Moriko stepped back into the middle of the hallway, preparing to Travel out of Na Réaltaí when the door of Ársa’s room slid open and his muscular form filled the door.
“Moriko,” he said as the color drained from his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I was about to make a big mistake, Ársa,” she said, her tone edged with steel. “But you’ve saved me from it, so I guess I should thank you.”
Ársa grabbed her arm. “Don’t you dare Travel away. That’s an order, Moriko,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“Who is that out there, Ársa?” the woman behind him said.
She stepped up to the door behind him, as Ársa stepped out to grab Moriko’s arm.
The woman was nearly as tall as Ársa and strikingly beautiful. She had perfectly groomed platinum hair. Even fresh from the shower, Moriko felt dirty and dowdy in her presence.
The woman smirked at Moriko and looked down the length of her, judging her and apparently finding her wanting. “I’m Ársa’s wife, Chéile,” she said with a falsely sweet tone.
Moriko couldn’t hide the shock that flittered across her face. She quickly got it under control, however, and she turned cold golden brown eyes to Ársa. Her throat closed up and her breath heaved from her chest. She didn’t want to cry. She straightened her spine and looked at his hand, still gripping her arm. She stared at it for a moment before looking up at him. The pleading in his eyes almost destroyed her, but she took a deep breath and said, “Take your hands off me before I cut it off at your wrist, you fucking coward.”
The venom in her tone took Ársa aback. He let go of her arm and shook his head. “Please, Moriko, we need to talk.”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” Moriko said. She took another step back, trying to gather her composure enough to Travel back to her camp. She heard a door open down the hall. Oh, great, that’s all I need. A witness.
Anoba quickly assessed the situation and started to step back into her chamber.
“Who is this little bitch, Ársa and what does she want with you?” Chéile said.
“I’m no one,” Moriko said before she vanished.
She Traveled back to her camp and sat alone in the chilly dark for quite some time. She forced herself not to cry. She didn’t want to cry over someone like him. How could I be so stupid? She heard a twig snap behind her and she quickly drew her knife, ready to eviscerate whoever came near her.
“Moriko,” Anoba said, moving forward. There was no need for light, for both of them could see in the dark.
“Go away, Anoba,” Moriko said.
“No, I won’t,” she said. She walked over and sat down on the ground beside the smaller woman. “You’re my friend and I won’t abandon you.”
Moriko shook her head. “I don’t need you,” she said.
“Ársa is distraught.”
“Ársa is married,” Moriko snorted.
“He’s an idiot,” Anoba said. “I don’t know what he was thinking, bringing that viper to Na Réaltaí.”
Moriko exhaled loudly. “Who in Ifreann is she?”
“She was an Elfin princess,” Anoba said. “Now, she’s a goddess, like the rest of us.”
“Goddesses,” Moriko said. “What fucking rubbish.”
“Well, you know what I mean, and for lack of a better term, it’s what we have to work with. We don’t have any other name to call ourselves.”
Moriko shook her head but remained silent.
“As I said, she’s the viper my mother warned me about in The Prophecy. And I cannot tell you what he was thinking, but no one likes her.”
“I can tell you what he was thinking with,” Moriko said derisively.
“Well, that’s painfully obvious,” Anoba said.
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore, Anoba, so if he sent you here to bring me back or to tell me anything, don’t waste your breath. I’m done with him. If I never see him again, it will be too soon. I’ll do my duties, but anything between Ársa and me is over and done with.”
“You went up there to tell him you wanted to be with him, didn’t you?”
“I can’t believe I was so stupid,” Moriko said. She punched the ground beside her with her small fist. “And I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” she repeated.
“All right,” Anoba said. “We won’t speak of him again. May I tell you about The Prophecy?”
“I’ve heard some of it, but I'm sure there's a lot more to it than what I know.”
“I’ve talked to my mother once a week for the last year and a half. She’s told me stories that will happen. She’s given me names and lists of people who will be important. I have been recording it all in my notebook.”
“Ah your famous purple leather book,” Moriko said.
“Yes,” Anoba said, smiling at her friend. “My tattered old purple book.”
“How do you feel about seeing your mother like that?”
“At first it was a little freaky, but now, I kind of look forward to it.”
“I can’t imagine. Pádraigín was always a little intimidating in person. I ca
n’t think what it would be like to see her this way.”
“She’s telling me what can happen if we do and don’t do certain things. She warned me about Chéile. She said there would be a viper among us, and I know it’s her.”
Moriko stubbornly refused to respond.
After a few moments, Anoba said. “I hear you are representing the Fae now.”
“Yes,” Moriko nodded. “I guess they need someone and I’m the logical choice. I spend a lot of time in their territory anyway.”
“I think it’s a good match,” Anoba said. “I know the river Fae are excited about it. And Oseyan has told me the oceanic Fae feel the same way.”
“I am sure they will eventually be disappointed. But I would appreciate it if you and Oseyan could work as liaisons for me since I don’t have such easy access to the water Fae.”
“Speaking for myself, I’ll be happy to. I am meeting with Oseyan tomorrow. I’ll mention it to him, but I’m almost one hundred percent positive you can count on him, too.”
A rustling in the forest behind them drew their attention. They turned to watch a slender young man step out of the woods. “Lady Moriko,” he said softly, “permission to approach.”
“You’re a Tree Fae,” Moriko said. “Come forward.”
She watched him stumble a bit before she realized that while he could see in the dark, his vision in it wasn’t as great as her own. Moriko snapped her fingers and a fire popped up in her cooking pit. “That should help,” she said.
“Thank you, Lady Moriko,” he said politely. When he moved into the ring of light where he could see her, he dropped to his knees with his head bowed.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she asked almost alarmed.
“I’ve never seen a goddess before, Lady Moriko,” he said with awe in his voice.
“Well, you still haven’t,” she said but Anoba dug an elbow into her ribs and she stopped. “Sit up, there, fellow,” she said. “We can’t know why you’ve come if you wallow on the ground that way.”
