Faire Eve

by Catherine Stovall

  Elsie merely lifted her many layers of ragged skirts and stepped over the fallen soldier. She knelt beside Eve and asked, “Feeling better, dear?”

  12

  The old healer wrapped Eve in a moth eaten robe and ushered her out of the room. On her way out, she motioned for Jaryn and Daryn, the twin Daione Warriors, to see to their Captain. Eve tried to protest but Elsie would not listen.

  Her rough hands pushed Eve out the door. “You shouldn’t worry about that hard headed mongrel. He will be fine once the chill wears off. Let’s get you upstairs.”

  The old woman ushered a limping Eve down the alley and up a set of old rickety stairs. The pace going up was slow because of Elsie’s age and Eve’s wounds. The old woman beamed at Eve and insisted she would heal and live to lead a life even more magical and mischievous than her own had been thus far. The way her eyes twinkled when she said the words, Eve didn’t doubt it for a second.

  Without knocking, Elsie pushed open the heavy red door at the top of the stairs. She hollered once and a young woman bounded to the door. Her raven hair was all the same length and decorated with white orchids. The girl was young. Eve guessed she wasn’t much older than herself. Eyeing Eve carefully, she turned her attention to Elsie.

  “Mamma, what are you doing? I told you never to climb the stairs. You could have summoned me and I would have come down.”

  “Faya, I brought you a visitor all the way from Upper World. Do stop being rude and invite us in.” Elsie’s tone was more loving than scolding.

  “Mamma, I have met Upper Wor lders before. They are not much different from you or me, except they have no magic. Why don’t I join you downstairs? Maybe we will catch a glimpse of the new queen. I heard she rode in on a dozen Ki’Lin stallions this morning and nearly trampled half the town. ” Instead of moving to let them in, Faya gently took her mother’s arm.

  As if trying to prove her claims of mischief were true, Elsie looked at Eve and winked. “Faya are you denying the new Sidhe queen and your own mother entrance to your home?”

  Faya was so shocked that she nearly had to scoop her jaw from the floor. Her face turned bright red and her eyes bulged. “I’m so sorry. You have no idea what she’s like, really. She is always dragging some poor, wounded stranger around and trying to get me involved. I will take her place when the time comes, but I do enjoy my privacy. Oh, here I am rambling. Come in, your highness.”

  Stepping to the side and opening the door wider, Faya bowed to Eve and cast a look of exasperation at her mother. Eve stepped inside the quaint and charming apartment. The furniture was wicker with large overstuffed cushions. The white trimmed windows had lavender curtains pulled to the side to let the afternoon sun beam in on the various herbs and small flowers blooming in the windowsills.

  Elsie showed Eve to a very comfortable seat by the hearth and began to build a small fire. Eve was very grateful. She still felt numb all over, except for the places where her wounds were the worst. Her wrist, leg, and head throbbed. A nasty pressure built behind her eyelids. She felt terrible, which she guessed is how anyone who was lucky enough to survive a trampling by a group of Ki’Lin would feel.

  “It’s so kind of you to invite me in, Faya.” Eve tried to be polite despite her growing discomfort at being introduced as the Sidhe queen while wearing a borrowed old robe.

  “Oh, it is a great pleasure to have you here. Please, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you some tea or perhaps a bite to eat? I hope I didn’t offend you with my idle gossip but it’s not every day a queen rides a Ki’Lin into this village or any other.”

  Eve laughed but a grimace of pain cut the sound short. “I imagine we did cause quite a stir. The Ki’Lin are very isolated creatures and my presence was supposed to stay somewhat quiet. Unfortunately, I can’t ride well and I keep falling off.”

  The three women sat near the fire, sipping a relaxing cherry tea for a while. Before Elsie announced she must go and check on the hardheaded young soldier she left below, she plied Eve with a strange gummy mixture, promising her the wounds would heal much quicker if she consumed the pasty gray mess. Within minutes of choking down the gruel and two cups of the delicious tea, the pain greatly subsided.

  Elsie bade her daughter and Eve goodbye and set off to check on Eldon. After she was gone, Faya politely offered Eve a place to wash up and something more suitable to wear. Overjoyed by the idea, Eve profusely thanked the young woman. Luckily, the healer’s daughter was nearly the same size as Eve and had much better taste in clothes. Eve was terrified they’d offer her smelly rags previously worn by ten generations. Instead, she got a slightly warn pair of hip hugger jeans and a Beatles tee. Apparently, Faya was a fan of Upper World fashion and she loved comfortable clothing.

  The most pleasant surprise came when Eve opened the door to the bathroom. Expecting to find the most primitive of settings, she found a fully functional modern haven. She had thought all of Evalon would be something out of the distant past. The idea of a magical place with indoor plumbing amazed her. Her mother had explained to her that no cars or electronics existed because the magic of Evalon shorted the fuses out of everything. They used fire for cooking and heating but magic for nearly everything else.

  Eve didn’t know if they used magic or real pipes to bring the hot water but the large soft sponge drenched and lathered with a rose scented soap was heaven. She stared longingly at the large silver showerhead that held the promise of a strong hot stream of water but Faya carefully reminded her to keep her bandages dry.

  Thirty minutes later, Eve emerged feeling much better than she had when she went inside. She couldn’t stop thanking Faya for her help and Faya kept insisting she was happy to lend a hand. Dressed comfortably in the borrowed clothes and her hair pulled into a neat ponytail, Eve made her way down the stairs to check on Eldon. Her right hand was of no use and her right leg ached fiercely but she made her way to the bottom with Faya’s help.

  She opened the door to the small room, expecting to find Eldon inside. When her eyes fell on the empty cot, she turned to Faya in confusion. “Where is he? Oh my god, tell me he’s okay?”

  She felt horrible. She had been resting by a warm fire, drinking tea, and wallowing in the luxury of clean clothes and warm water while Eldon was probably suffering terribly or dead. Not knowing what else to do, Eve cried in frustration. Faya tried to comfort her as tears welled up in Eve’s eyes. She persuaded her to stop crying long enough for them to seek out Elsie and discover Eldon’s whereabouts. The two stepped back into the alley and a familiar voice echoed off the brick walls.

  “Eve! What are you doing standing down here. You, girl, where do you think you are taking her. Do you have any idea how hurt she is?”

  At the sound of Vandel’s voice, Eve’s head snapped up and she nearly fainted from the wave of dizziness that caused her vision to swim and her skin to feel unnaturally warm. She saw tiny stars and then darkness. In seconds, Vandel scooped her up in his arms and started marching out of the alleyway. He took three steps before Faya had a blade to his throat.

  “Who are you and where do you think you are going?” Her voice was steely and the knife pressed down harder.

  He stood stiff as a board, gripping Eve as tightly as he dared. If he tried to fight the crazy girl, he may drop Eve. If he didn't try to fight her, the insane woman may slit both of their throats. The attack earlier had made them all well aware that there were dark powers lurking in Evalon who did not want the new queen.

  Shifting Eve slightly, so it looked as if her weight were bearing on him, Vandel held her with one arm. As fast as lightning and just as Eldon had taught him, he seized Faya’s wrist and twisted hard. He felt the tip of the blade nick him very near his jugular but the resulting abrasion was no worse than if he had cut himself shaving.

  The exhilaration of battle sent his wings unfurling from their place underneath clothing and skin. They had the same shape as those of a dragonfly, but instead of being transparent, they matched his sandy blonde hair. T
he sight of his wings startled Faya more than the feel of his grip twisting her arm.

  Faya jumped back and yanked her arm from his grip, giving Vandel enough time to slide Eve’s unconscious body to the ground rather roughly. He’d apologize later if he hurt her but he was busy trying to save her. Faya still had the knife despite the pain throbbing in her wrist and she was coming at him like a mad dog trying to protect its young.

  Vandel made a grab for her arm but she dodged and landed the blunt end of the handle against his temple. Cursing, Vandel drew his sword. Woman or not, the winch was out for blood. He made to lunge and she sprang back, smacking hard against the brick wall. Vandel thought he had her. She couldn’t dodge him from the close proximity.

  Eve’s eyes opened slowly. She was lying on the cold pavement several feet away. She could see the outline of two people with weapons drawn. Gaining her feet slowly, she braced her back against the wall of the building near her. Her vision cleared and she could see Vandel. He looked handsome and dangerous with his blade held high over his head and his wings spread wide. The sun glinted on the steel of his sword and in his dark eyes. Vandel shifted his body as he prepared to strike and Eve saw his intended victim.

  As she screamed, a bright blue light illuminated the alley in a blinding flash. Faya and Vandal felt their blades pulled from their hands very much against their will. The light lasted only a second before it faded. As their eyes readjusted, they could see a blurry image of Eve. Standing with her back pressed against the wall, she held both Vandel’s sword and Faya’s short blade in her good hand. Above her broken hand, a shining ball of blue light danced.

  Eve’s voice went as cold as midnight in winter. Quiet and dark, it spread an uneasy feeling through Vandel and Faya. “Stop it, both of you. Vandel is one of Eldon’s soldiers. Faya is the daughter of the healer and my friend.”

  For the first time in her life, Faya feared magic. She could do a great deal herself and as the healer’s daughter, she had grown up with it being a huge part of her life and education. Yet, nothing prepared her for what she saw and heard within their future queen. Ignoring the warning bells sounding all through her body, she stepped forward and raised her hands in surrender. She spoke in a gentle and soothing tone but not so much that she would insult Eve by treating her like a child.

  “Eve, I’m sorry. I thought he was going to hurt you. We are finished here. Please, diminish the orb.” Gradually, Faya grew closer.

  Eve’s face went slack, her eyes grew bright, and she seemed to snap too. Looking down at her hand holding the knives, she gasped and let them loudly clamor to the cobblestone. She looked into her left hand and saw the glowing ball of energy and magic floating above her palm. She looked intrigued at first and then horrified. Jerking her hand away, the sphere hung in the air for a second before falling. Unable to make a grab for Eve because the ball hung between them, Faya covered her own face for protection.

  The only people she knew who could spontaneously create such power and mold into a perfectly shaped ball were full-blooded fey or a mage trained by a skilled sorcerer. She had no idea if Eve knew what she made or what the smashing of such a powerful weapon would cause. Faya understood all too well the powerful consequences and she tried to protect herself from the onslaught.

  Eve watched as the ball hit the rough stone. At first contact, she heard a loud snap. The globe bounced up and back down. Hitting the pavement as hard the second time, the sphere shattered like glass. The magic swirled up as far as Eve’s knees in a thick cloud before it plummeted down to the broken shards of the sphere as if someone turned on a vacuum.

  Once the blue smog cleared, the tiny bits of the spell shimmering in the sunlight began to melt like slivers of ice. In their place, sprang a small bushel of roses. Instead of red, white, or even pink, the roses were black. Their over powering fragrance filled the alley with a sweet smell that held a hint of power and danger.

  The roses formed a half moon around Eve’s feet and climbed the wall behind her. Their twisting thorn filled stems wound their way into the cracks of the cobblestone and brick. There, they rooted in a century’s worth of built up dirt. Eve stood in the middle of the rosettes, her face serene and her eyes calm. Without much consideration for the thorns, she stepped over the lowest part of the roses toward Faya.

  In complete cluelessness, she asked, “How’d you do that?”

  Faya, in return, looked as shocked as she had the first moment they met. “I didn’t. You did that!”

  Eve felt strange, she could feel a division within herself. The Sidhe half of her rejoiced in the use of her power and the human side begged to explain it away. Something close to hysteria fought its way through her brain as the war between fairy and human raged. Instead of giving into it, Eve took a deep breath and swallowed hard against the large lump building in her throat.

  Vandel crept up and bowed ceremoniously to her. “Your Majesty, Eldon sent me to fetch you. I shall escort you, if you are feeling well enough to join him in the local diner.”

  The boy pretended to be stronger than he was. He was seriously terrified by Eve, though he was no stranger to black magic and demons. The promise of power and money had seduced his father into the abyss when Vandel had been barely old enough to walk. The elder man had pledged himself and his family into servitude of the darkness and they had all lived a nightmare for years.

  As time went on, Vandel’s father had gained rank, position, and money, but his ability to love had dwindled as a result. He had kept his practices well hidden from outsiders, but at home, the stench of the ebony night had hung around him like a shield. He’d no longer smiled or laughed unless he had needed to in order to disguise his growing hatred. He’d become quick tempered and abusive to his wife and children. Late at night he would descend into the basement of their luxurious home, to where he’d practiced his craft. Terrifying noises sometimes had crept up through the floorboards, keeping Vandel frightened and awake beneath his blankets on those nights.

  The darkness had asked more and more each year, each month, each week, each day, and in the end it had become each hour. It had eaten away at his father’s form, twisting him into a monster. It had dug its black claws into his mind and heart until there had been nothing but shards left of the man. It had taken three times what it had given and still had wanted more. The darkness had wanted the blood of the first-born son.

  When Vandel was ten years old, his father had dragged him down the stairs to the blood stained sanctuary. The stench of incense, candle wax, blood, and failure seemed to seep from the very walls. Vandel had cried and screamed for his mother, whom he could hear weeping and bleeding at the door. In response to his pleas, his father’s hand had fallen hard across his face and the subsequent dizziness had made the boy sick to his stomach.

  Vandel had been small and weak, but he had fought like a tiger against his father’s bulk. His efforts had done nothing but buy him more time to breathe in the rankness of the altar. At last, his father had managed to strap him down to the wooden platform, stained with old blood. Vandel had wept when the ceremony had begun and he knew he would die.

  What only took minutes, had seemed to take hours. When the lighting of the candles, the ritualistic smudging of the sacrifice with the incense smoke, and the casting of the dark circle had been completed, his father had raised his athame high above him and chanted the old songs of the darkness. Vandel had squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to the light, prayed to the goddess, and had made his peace with the world.

  At first, he’d thought the splintering sound must be the knife shattering his ribs. When the pain hadn’t come, he knew something had happened. Voices and footsteps had sounded in the world outside his closed eyes, but he had not dared to move or breathe. He had known they could tell he was alive. His heart had beaten hard enough to make his underfed body vibrate with each rhythmic thud. Vandel had hoped whatever was happening would wash over him unseeing and unknowing of his presence.

  He had heard his father sli
ng curses and men crying out. The clash of blades had filled the room and the powers of dark and light had coursed over his naked flesh. He had kept his eyes sealed and his mouth shut, despite the temptation to run. At last, large, rough hands had gripped his shoulders and an unfamiliar voice had spoken his name. Still, he had kept as motionless as if he were a statue. He heard his mother crying and he had felt her soft skin as she had pressed her tear streaked face to his.

  Vandel had opened his eyes to see a man in the Daoine warrior uniform and he had understood. He had thought his mother to be weak, but she had defied her husband with her vows to save her son. She had called upon the Daoine to save them all. The warrior had lifted him from the altar and he’d been ushered away. His father had been imprisoned and they were once again free of the darkness. Even the house had seemed to change. The shadows in the corners hadn’t seemed as dark and the stench of dark power had faded.

  From the years of abysmal pain and terror, Vandel had grown to be a man. As he had always dreamed, he became a Daoine warrior and he proudly protected the people of Evalon. His memories of the dark time faded and some lost their razor sharpness on his mind and heart. Yet, the memory of the night he had almost died never left him. The knowledge of the darkness clung to him like an invisible cloak.

  As Vandel walked beside Eve, he could feel the same vibration. A hint of night’s shade about her spoke of evil and strength. He could not block the image of her swathed in the thorns and petals of the death rose. He recognized the light in the girl as everyone else did, but he also knew that the new queen carried with her a touch of the midnight.

  Vandel knew he would have to bide his time and wait. If he spoke to soon, the others would not believe. The girl was growing stronger. Even as he studied her, he saw the changes were coming on much more rapidly than they should. Despite his aversion to touching her while the darkness clung to her skin, Vandel experimented.