by Ren Curylo
She realized after their greeting that this man was Oseyan, the one people called God of the Oceans. They were discussing Moriko deliberately hiding from Ársa. Oseyan was encouraging Ársa to leave her be. I like this fellow more all the time. The conversation turned to Chéile herself and her attraction for Oseyan dried up like grapes in the sun. I wish I could hear better. She stepped into the shadows and inched forward as far as she dared. She was glad there was a forest on the island, thin and scrabbly though it was.
She certainly understood their words well enough when Oseyan told Ársa that his stupid sister said that she was the viper in her mother’s prophecy. They were all crazy for believing in that idiot’s warnings. She could be dead for all they knew, and it was pure insanity that any of them believed this crap. Anoba was the most insane of the lot.
I should become what they claim I already am. The bastards would deserve it if I did. They’ve convicted me of it anyway, so why not make them happy by fulfilling their stupid prophecy.
Chéile listened to their conversation and a cold darkness filled her heart as she heard her husband voice his regret at having married her. A hollow feeling filled her chest as he spoke of trying to divorce her. Her lip quivered and her hands shook as she listened.
At Oseyan’s mention of children, Chéile’s attention riveted back to the conversation, shaking off her self-pity. His words ‘get pregnant any time she wants to’ rattled in her head and her chest, vibrating throughout her entire body. Here was the information she had searched for, for the last few months. It had always eluded her and, at last, one she perceived as her new enemy had served it up to her.
She smiled slyly. Now, all she had to do was get Ársa to make love to her. He’s been gone so long, obsessing over Moriko. What will he be like towards me when he returns? I’ve never had a problem getting him interested before, perhaps I still won’t. She sensed that things had changed between them, and wondered if this would make it difficult. It would certainly be in her interest to give him one of those miserable brats he had bargained for before they married. I will make it happen no matter what.
A rustling in the trees behind Ársa drew her attention. She peered into the darkness, straining to see. Her heart pounded again, this time with fear. As the moon moved from behind a cloud, her breath drew inward in a sharp gasp. She could see, at the edge of the darkness, in the blackness of the dense forest, Moriko standing in the shadows, silently watching Ársa.
Chéile started forward, meaning to confront the woman, but as soon as she stepped out of her hiding place, she felt herself waver and her knees grew weak. She fought to remain on the beach, but was instantly transported to her chamber on Na Réaltaí.
1 week later
Ianualis 22, 763
Silverwilde, Cardosa
Moriko Moriko had spent the last several months fighting off the bitterness. She felt that part of herself was slipping away. She had always been quick to laugh, quick to find the joy in the mundane, commonplace things. Now, she found she seldom ever laughed and rarely smiled. Her heart felt like a solid chunk of rock in her chest. She didn’t like it.
She poked her campfire with a stick and frowned. She still got messages every day from Ársa and every day, she ignored them. She wouldn’t have gotten a different gan-sreang even if she didn’t have to go to Na Réaltaí to get it, for it would have done no good. It wouldn’t have stopped Ársa. He was their commander, he was in charge of everything, and there was no information secret from him. If she had changed anything, he would have found out and it would have only served to make him more determined to find her.
Her only hope was to ignore him. At least he wasn’t messaging her every hour anymore. When she felt her heart softening even a little toward him, she allowed the humiliation to flood into her again. She must never forget. She had almost trusted him and that’s what he had done. He had lied, cheated, and humiliated her in the worst way. How dare he message her every day wanting to talk to her? How dare he call her his baby, his love? He had that rotten Elf bitch in Na Réaltaí.
Since it was common knowledge that she knew about the Elfish woman, the Envoy members she ran into were eager to talk. Moriko had heard plenty of tales about Chéile. She was a real piece of work. The other crewmembers were not sparing in their opinions of her when Moriko met them as she traveled about Lerien. None of their opinions were high, either. It made Moriko angry that he would choose, over her, someone so bereft of value, someone so corrupt of spirit. It was insulting.
Moriko sighed and stared into the fire. It has been months now. I have to do something about this. She decided to take her new role seriously; she would set out to check on every colony of Fae she could find. The water ones would be difficult for her. She would have to get help from Anoba and Oseyan for meetings with those. But she could start out with the easy to find colonies, she decided.
She tossed dirt on her campfire and extinguished it. She made certain it was cold before she packed up her camp and headed out. Years and years of traveling had taught her the need to pack light. She had scaled back her equipment as much as she could, and for the rest of it, she relied on her abilities to ease her burdens.
Organization, for Moriko, was key in making things easier for her nomadic life. She kept like items grouped together in her laghdaigh bag. She packed all her camping supplies away, slipping them into a purple corduroy bag no bigger than a loaf of bread. She slipped the purple sack into the bag she wore at her belt. The purple bag grew smaller and smaller in her hand as it entered the mouth of the brown leather pouch.
As soon as she tucked it inside, Moriko pulled the flap of the bag over and fastened it shut. The bag looked as empty as it had before she put the camping equipment in it. She had created the bag herself, eons ago, during her many solitary months of wandering the world and she called it her laghdaigh bag. It came in handy and it kept her from having to carry needless weight.
All packed up, she got up and left her camp behind, walking silently and sure-footed through the forest heading south toward her next destination. Moriko knew where all the Fae lived—or most of them. She had seen them many times over the years but she had never ‘officially’ visited them since she had agreed to represent them at Ársa’s request.
Moriko preferred walking over Traveling, and she chose to do so now. It kept her in touch with the world that way; it kept her attuned not only to the forest but also to all the creatures in it. She felt as if they all fell under her dominion, whether they were plant, animal, or Fae. If they lived in or near the forests, they were hers to protect. She stayed in touch with others on Ársa’s Envoy as their areas overlapped hers, but she did not maintain contact with Ársa. If he didn’t like the job she was doing, he could relieve her of her duties. She knew that wasn’t going to happen. Her territory was enormous and no one would be more dedicated to it than she was.
The first Fae colony she came to in Silverwilde was a troop of Flower Fae interspersed with a small band of Tree Fae. Moriko was careful to approach the area with caution, alerting them to her presence. She didn’t want to surprise them. Upset Fae creatures could be a real danger to her and to themselves.
Moriko began to sing a forest song as she drew near. Most Fae liked music and she thought it would draw their attention. Mortals couldn’t see them without special help unless the Fae desired it, but she needed no such aid. She saw a small troop of them gathering, even though they were invisible to most creatures. Being able to see invisible things was part of Moriko’s special abilities from The Alteration. She could see as well in the dark as she could in the daylight, however, her night vision did render the world a little differently. How she saw invisible creatures was more akin to her night vision, a bit grey and wavy.
She would continue to advance, pretending she didn’t notice them until one of them chose to approach her. She changed her song so that now she sang of who she was and why she was here, giving them information since she had gained their attention.
; The flowers were growing thicker in this wide meadow with sparse trees. The Flower and Tree Fae were quite familiar with her. Many of them resided in her forests. She was surprised, however, when a Pixie approached her first. What in Ifreann is a Pixie doing here?
“Hello, Forest Lady Moriko,” she said. She had hair almost the same color as Moriko’s—perhaps a bit redder and her eyes were golden. Her wings looked like autumn leaves in color and shape. She was slender and wiry and Moriko thought she looked like a bit of a threat. It was more than the fierce expression on a face that looked as if it would be sweet in repose. She was vibrantly aware of her surroundings. She was also armed to the teeth and wore silver spurs on her boot heels.
“Good day,” Moriko said, stopping in the middle of the path. The Pixie flew at her face level, and hovered in front of her, giving no ground. “You have me at a disadvantage,” she said. “You seem to know me, but I’ve no idea who you are.” She could see the Pixie clearly because this creature wanted to be seen. The others held back, waiting.
The Pixie laughed. “I am Skill,” she said. “I escorted a seeding of displaced Flower Fae here from Amalith Island. They wanted to join some of their relatives here.”
“I see,” Moriko said. “That was good of you.”
“I have a considerable amount of combat experience,” she said. Her tone was matter-of-fact, without conceit or braggadocio. “I have spent quite some time fighting mortals of all kinds as well as monsters, demons, and supernatural beings. I also worked closely with a group of humans, and one shriveled up, old undead guy.”
Moriko laughed. “I see,” she said. “Well, you sound like the perfect escort for the Fae, then. Thank you for looking after them.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “I’ll be around if you need me for anything else. Besides, you can always call on me. I’m staying with the Fae on Amalith right now, helping them guard the portal.”
“Perhaps you could tell me who the troop spokesperson is,” she said. Moriko had learned long ago how much stock the Fae took in names, their own personal names, as well as their grouping names. She was careful to use the word ‘troop’ which was widely accepted by Fae in general and was often used specifically when referring to a mixed group of Fae races.
“Sure, I can take you to Filigree. I think she’s the troop elder. She’s also the seeding elder for Flower Fae. And you’re in luck because a representative of the Lilitu is here today as well.”
“Is that right?” Moriko said. “I didn’t know the Lilitu associated with other Fae all that much.”
“Come on with me,” Skill said, turning to fly down the path through the flower-strewn meadow. “Normally, they don’t, but Adamen isn’t like the other Lilitu.”
“Adamen? I have known her a long time,” Moriko said.
“She’s here visiting Filigree. They used to live near one another in your old world.”
“My old world?” Moriko asked in amusement. What an odd way to put it. “Isn’t it your old world, too, Skill?”
“Oh, yeah,” Skill said as if thinking of this aspect for the first time. She shook her head. “I’m not from either of your worlds. I’m from another realm. However, we can talk all about that later if you’d like. It’s where I learned about humans and stuff.”
“Do you know where the Elves went after their village burned?” The mention of another realm reminded her of the Elves missing from Lerien.
“I think I do, but I’m not sure. I was going to the burned out village, Lasahala Run, I think they called it, when I’m done here. Would you like to go with me?”
“Sure, we can do that.”
“After that, I’ll go into some other realms where I suspect they may have gone. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“I appreciate that, Skill.”
“Well, we’re here,” she said. “I’ll go see if Filigree and Adamen want to see you.”
“Thank you,” Moriko said. “I’ll wait right here.” She looked around her at the convention of Fae gathering to watch her. Many of them looked cautious, but most of them smiled. A few even waved. She acknowledged them all with a nod of her head.
After a few moments, Adamen emerged and expanded from tiny to the size Moriko remembered her to be when they met so long ago.
“Moriko,” Adamen said warmly. “How nice it is to see you again. I am grateful that you accepted the position to represent us. We couldn’t ask for a better guardian.”
“I hope your faith in me is well founded.”
“Filigree will be out shortly.”
“Thank you,” Moriko said.
“Before Filigree comes out, though,” Adamen said, lowering her voice so folks nearby wouldn’t overhear. “I wonder if you can find out something about someone for me.”
“Perhaps,” Moriko said. “Who is it?”
“I met a Selkie once, a while back, and lately, I’ve had terrible nightmares about her. They are all red and filled with blood and panic. I would like to find out if she’s all right or if something awful has befallen her. Her name is Muirgan, and her husband’s name is Aindréas.”
“I see,” Moriko said. Selkies were Sea Fae creatures, and as such, fell squarely in her domain. “I’ll talk to Oseyan and get him to help me find her.”
“Thank you, Moriko,” Adamen said relieved. “I am afraid she’s made a powerful enemy.”
“Hopefully, it isn’t the nasty goddess who burned the Elves out.”
Adamen shook her head. “No, I don’t think they’re in cahoots. See, the enemy I feel that Muirgan has made is my mother. It’s a long and dreadful tale and one that will keep for another time.”
“Very well,” Moriko said. She was curious but it didn’t alter the obligation she had taken on. It didn’t matter to her why or how a Selkie may have made an enemy of Queen Erish. She would do her best to fulfill Adamen’s request. “I’ll speak to Oseyan at my first opportunity, Adamen. I’m sure he knows where most of the Selkie bobs live,” she said, calling the creatures by the group name they preferred.
“Thank you so much,” she said, relief tangible in her voice.
The door of Filigree’s flower home opened and she came out, carrying a tiny Fae baby on her hip. The child looked to Moriko to be six to nine months old. She had no experience with babies and wasn’t the best judge of anything about them.
“Adamen,” Filigree said, “could you change this darling’s smelly little bottom while I chat with our goddess?”
“Certainly,” Adamen said. She covertly glanced at Moriko and suddenly seemed a bit nervous. The baby shifted in size from tiny Flower Fae to one that fit more comfortably with a creature Adamen’s size.
Something about the child made Moriko look harder at its face. “Hold on, Adamen,” she said barely above a whisper. Her throat constricted so that she could barely speak aloud.
Adamen drew in a sharp breath and stopped stock-still. She glanced nervously at Filigree but said nothing. She turned toward Moriko and waited.
Moriko looked at the baby with sharp, assessing eyes. She looked at Adamen’s face carefully before she turned to study Filigree’s. She looked back at the baby and Adamen once more. Dawning lit her eyes and she nodded her head. “That’s Ársa’s child,” she said with certainty. Her tone was flat, conveying neither anger nor pain.
“Don’t be silly,” Filigree said rather loudly in protest.
“Shush,” Adamen said, touching Filigree gently on the arm. “I will not lie to Moriko. Yes, this is Ársa’s son. Please don’t tell anyone about him. He is in danger from my mother and if she finds him, she will kill him and perhaps all the other Fae here who protect him.”
“I won’t speak of it to anyone,” Moriko said. Her mind raced as she tried to sort out what she was feeling.
“I know this must hurt you, and I don’t think it’s fair for you to find out this way,” Adamen said. “I had thought—or perhaps only hoped—that Ársa would tell you himself.”
Moriko snorted. “There
’s a lot in his life’s script that Ársa chooses to leave out when it comes to me. Not the least of which is his marriage to Chéile, the Princess of the Elves.”
“What?” Adamen shrieked. “You mean…” she let her breath out in a completely aggravated ‘aw’ sound.
“Well, it seems that there are a lot of things the two of us don’t know about Ársa’s life.”
“So it seems. I am sorry, Moriko. I should have told you myself. It perplexes me that he didn’t tell you because I know how much he loves you.”
Moriko snorted derisively. “It seems that Ársa is too much a creature of the flesh to love anyone.”
“I won’t argue that he’s a creature of the flesh,” Adamen said, “but I honestly believe that he means it when he says he loves you.”
“This is a point on which we must disagree and there’s no further use in speaking of Ársa, Adamen. Congratulations on your son. Neither your mother nor anyone else in any of our worlds will ever hear it from my lips.”
“Other than the Folk of this troop, the only other people who know of it are the Selkies I spoke to you about and Anoba.”
“Anoba?” Moriko said, feeling slightly betrayed by the secret her friend had kept for her brother.
“Yes, but please don’t hold it against her for not telling you. She said it was part of fulfilling The Prophecy.”
“I see,” Moriko said. She was feeling a bit ambivalent about that damned prophecy these days.
“And I know she urged him to tell you everything as soon as, if not before, it occurred.”
“And as always, he neglected to take sound advice,” Moriko said dryly.
“I’ll leave you to your discussion with Filigree, Moriko. I’ll see you soon, I hope,” Adamen said. She turned and carried her baby back into the Daisy Fae’s home, shrinking as she passed through the doorway.
