Echoes of Fae: Book One of the Divine

by Monica Doke

  “You work at the palace?” Rictor asked. They all looked at each other uncertainly.

  “No,” Melody said. “Not all of us. Thane is the Prapacretine,” she said, smiling at Thane. Rictor gasped and bowed deeply.

  “Oh, my gracious. I have been so improper, my lord!” Rictor said.

  “Please, no, it is all fine,” Thane replied uncomfortably. “But we do need to make our leave.”

  “Very well,” Rictor said. He looked at Melody. “Please, if you find yourself traveling again do not forget to stop by. I have many interesting artifacts here.” Melody smiled and nodded. Rictor offered her his arm and escorted them all out. Haroah had gathered Cybil and everything the Gnome sent with her. The little man was very sad to see her go. She smiled down at him and kissed his cheek. Cybil thanked Rictor again and they all departed amicably.

  Rictor closed his door and felt sad to see them leave. He knew there was something more to Melody but he could tell she did not want to speak of it. She was so beautiful and powerful. Rictor knew he would dream of her for a long time.

  Outside the cavalry joined together where they had tied the horses.

  “Can Cybil ride alone?” Melody asked Thane. They looked at Cybil who wobbled beside Haroah. Melody frowned. Thane shook his head. “I will take her with me,” Melody said. “I am the smallest so we will be able to travel longer with two on one horse. As they prepared, Melody stood silently, staring off into the distance.

  “What happened?” Thane asked. “Where is Jax?” She allowed a look of concern to cross her small face but did not speak. Yirah stepped up beside her after helping Haroah’s sister onto the back of Melody's horse. Melody mounted her horse behind Cybil and grabbed the reins. The long girl was slumped and unkempt in front of Melody. Cybil held onto the saddle as best as she could.

  “He has run off after seeing the man of this house make eyes at Melody,” Yirah told Thane as she struggled against her straight hair in the wind. Issy stepped beside her sister.

  “He was very friendly,” Thane said. He was not well versed in romantic matters. Jennifer looked at Melody, who had put the hood of her cloak over her head and held onto Cybil with one arm. Jennifer grabbed the reigns and turned Melody's horse around. Melody lifted her small face. She looked very tired.

  “Will he be alright out there?” Melody asked hesitantly. She remembered the way they had last found him. Jennifer inclined her head reassuringly, but she could hear Melody's ragged breath and the Infeline could smell the Pramacretine's concern rolling off her. Jennifer handed the reins back to Melody. She mounted her own horse and rode beside the Pramacretine.

  “I think he will be,” Jennifer said. “I do not know what he is hiding, Melody, but until we do, you must not be too worried.” Melody nodded. She knew she could not afford to be upset over Jax. He had not been forthright with her so she should not have been so concerned with his sudden abandonment. Someone being friendly to her should not have caused such a reaction in a grown man.

  Their journey back to Heighman inn compared poorly to the journey back. They traveled quickly through the night. They were wary of being out in the night. Their arrival at the inn met with a hot meal for each of them. Daarsh had their rooms cleaned by a few men who could not pay for their meals. Melody tipped the men generously. The whole group excluding Melody noticed Daarsh’s quick, nervy behavior. Melody had been distant the whole evening and had been staring into her cup for an hour. Thane decided to ask one of the men who had cleaned their rooms about the innkeeper’s strange behavior. The man sat down beside Thane.

  “Daarsh’s mother is ill. Apparently he thinks she is going to die,” the man said sadly. “She’s asking for a Healer.” Thane nodded.

  “I will go. Where are they?” Thane asked. The man stood and took them to the Daarsh's mother. The whole group followed except Melody. She excused herself claiming she just wanted some quiet to clear her head. The group left Melody alone just moments before six freeroamers made their entrance.

  The Uninvited

  “What’s the matter, little woman?” A burly Freeroamer who appeared to be their leader asked Melody. He was one of the men she threatened during their last visit to the inn. He did not recognize her. Melody did not look up from her ale. He sat far too close to her, his companions snickering and drinking their ale. The patrons averted their eyes and avoided the dangerous men. Melody almost seemed passive, with her hood drawn forward and her hair hanging in her face. The man across from her stuck his dirty, hairy face into hers, trying to get her to emerge from the veil of her short hair. Slowly Melody’s body tensed. Finally, she pushed her chair back and left the table. The men followed.

  The night was drawing nearer to day and the air chilled as it wrapped around Melody. In the pale moonlight, the Pramacretine looked even more otherworldly than she normally did. Melody was standing awkward in the middle of a barricade of drunk, ignorant men. She felt no urge to defend herself, no urge to flee. She stood alone, her face stony and severe in the moonlight. Melody felt, in that moment, the sorrow of her fate. When she dies, Melody thought, she would die to save these creatures. These men. One of the men shouted, which was deafening in the absolute silence around them. Melody started and turned her face to the sound. Her blue eyes struck a man near her and he stumbled backward. His eyes were wide and frightened by the Pramacretine's face. She had lost some of her solidity.

  “Hey, I know who this lassie is!” One of the men shouted. “Aye, she’s the one wit’ ‘de blade to Pinter’s throat!” The ugliest and obvious leader of the Freeroamers yelped. Some of the men had stumbled away from the group, seeing something frightening in Melody.

  “Aye, that is her!” Another man cried. The man they spoke of, Pinter, did not appear to be present.

  “Mmmm, what say we tame ‘er?” He said hastily. The group gurgled their approval. The threat against her increased, tangible in the air. However, the Pramacaretine felt nothing. Her body froze and her mind with it. The first man pushed forward and shoved her to the ground. Melody felt her head hit a stone and her blood spill onto it. His grubby fingers fumbled at the laces of her tunic until he gave up and ripped it in two. They were angered to find she was wearing a small shirt under her tunic. They ripped at it but it only tore in bits.

  Parts of Melody’s bare skin bared to a gathering for snarling Freeroamers. They tore at all of her clothing as fists met her head, her stomach and feet struck her sides. Still, though she could not fathom why, she could not manage to move. Dirty fingers touched and clawed at her until they started to break through her clothing. Melody felt her consciousness slipping away after another blow to her head. She felt strange, overwhelming instinct take over her body. Rage exploded inside of her heart. A new growl took over the group and it was her own. Provoked by this, they held her harder to the ground. The fingers became various other male body parts, touching, prying and invading.

  Suddenly, a figure burst into the group of Freeroamers howling and ripping wildly into flesh. Shrouded in a cloak and darkness, his knife drew crimson lines across their exposed skin. Several of the men dropped to the ground, unmoving. Melody watched as he dropped half a dozen of the men before a rock to his head dropped him.

  The blood, violence and disregard swarmed the Pramacretine, overwhelming her consciousness. Melody felt fire running through her veins, blue and red, icy and burning and she felt it course from the earth, to her fingertips, through her heart into her head and out of her pores. Every inch of Melody’s body ignited. The blue flames illuminated the night sky like a fallen star, bare and offended. She writhed inside of her own light as each of the remaining men were instantaneously feeling exactly what she was at the very moment. The light shone so that the entire village sang out in cries of agony.

  The blaze strengthened as Melody's Ether lifted her from her body and exploded into a blinding white light. In its center was the pale flesh of the Pramacretine. When the light exploded, the three men closest to her perished. The three remaini
ng were far enough away to survive, but were each struck blind and deaf by the flare.

  The luminosity faded slowly, leaving everyone sobbing. Melody huddled naked and bleeding on the ground. Her tattered clothes burned up in her Ether. The bright light still brushed throughout her skin, illuminating her blue eyes. Her body shimmered and wavered as if it were immaterial. This brought a staggering power to her gaze.

  Melody watched as Jax approached her, his long legs carrying him quickly to her side. He knelt down beside her. The pain in which her Ether had spread did not leave him stunned as it did most others. In fact, he seemed almost immune to it. He stood over her, tears that reflected the moonlight filled his eyes and washed the color from them. He reached down and touched her face, carefully. He watched as his hand passed through it until her flesh returned. The Conjurer scooped her up as soon as she was solid. His soft voice sailed into her ears; healing her heart. She felt everything return: the first of these emotions happened to be shame. Her face burned as she tried to shield her body. He carried her into the inn, naked and small. The village had gone back to a basic normal, left to wake nine hours later with a distant and strange memory of a bad nightmare.

  The offending Freeroamers had almost all been killed. The shrouded man had slain six, while three burned in the wake of Melody's Ether. The three that were still alive were sitting stunned in the lawn, their eyes wide. Pinter had finally made an appearance. He stood over the three, growling, his bearded face contorted by rage. He walked stiffly into the inn and met a red, furious Daarsh. The Freeroamer immediately frowned and shook his head. Jennifer stood and slapped Pinter hard across his face, leaving a welt.

  "Your men attacked a young girl!" Jennifer shouted, her long face swollen from tears and red with fury. Pinter stared at her sadly.

  "My lady," Pinter's eyes widened. "I was away this night; I had no bearings over their actions.” Jennifer took a deep breath to calm herself.

  "Daarsh's mother passed on,” Jennifer added. Pinter's eyes widened.

  "From the girl's incantation?" Pinter asked, aghast.

  "No," Thane said, drying his face on his sleeve. "She died before that. We were just on our way to ask for her help when we saw no one in here, then the entire building lit up and we felt Melody's pain,” Thane finished. Pinter's eyes watered, as he smelled the stench of despair permeating throughout the cavern. He had felt it too; it had been what had drawn him back to Heighman inn. Jax descended the stairs looking ragged.

  "That was no incantation,” Jax said to them. "Incantations are Ethereal words that take one thing and rearrange their meanings into the shape of another thing permanently or otherwise.” Thane sat down beside Jennifer and waited for Jax to continue. "That was pure Ether. Everyone within a two-mile radius could feel exactly what she was experiencing. There is no way to cast such an incantation, nor is there a way to protect yourself from it. The intensity of it destroyed three men. Thane,” Jax said, turning to the Healer. “She became Ether.” The Conjurer breathed. Thane's eyes widened but he quickly smoothed his expression and looked down at Jax's leg.

  "You should not have left!” Jennifer snapped at Jax, her oval eyes dark with apprehension and pain, “you upset her needlessly, Conjurer. She had no idea that man was flirting with her!”

  “I know,” Jax said, lowering his face sadly. He felt shame for his reaction, but he knew he had not left totally out of jealousy. Jax cringed away from his thoughts.

  “What happened here?” Thane asked looking at Jax’s wounds on his leg and his forehead.

  “Nothing,” Jax replied. He turned his head to hide his wound from the Healer. Pinter eyed the Conjurer skeptically. Jax wriggled uncomfortably as Thane began to bandage the Conjurer’s leg. The Healer somehow manifested flasks of organic potions and strands of pearly white cloth from his cloak. Jax looked a bit closer in wonderment and saw the long, pale C'ghalie man had a medicine case strapped to him under his jacket and cloak.

  “I was too late,” Jax said, his face unreadable. As he spoke, Yirah descended the stairs. She had been up to check on Melody and Cybil. She looked at Jax with some reverence that confused most of the party, and then she turned to Thane.

  “She is bathing. You will need to heal them both before they sleep to avoid infections,” Yirah advised. Jennifer stood and dragged herself up the stairs.

  “I will go up and see to them. When they have been dressed I will send for you, Haroah, so you may see to your sister,” Thane said, reassuring his old friend. Haroah looked at Thane sideways, his face sad and wan from exhaustion. Everyone looked defeated. They all knew they had failed their Pramacretine this night and they each felt pain from their inattention. Thane followed Jennifer to his sister.

  “Is she well? You carried the Pramacretine to the room, did my sister seem well when you saw her?” Haroah asked Jax, his calm demeanor betraying how he felt inside. He was worried about his sister, but also his Pramacretine.

  “She seems tired and uncomfortable without her usual liberty of flight-” Jax began. Yirah sighed loudly, interrupting his sentence.

  “I would be distraught if I lost mine. Helacorn are defined by the state of their wings!” Yirah exclaimed. Issy, who had wandered in from the outside amidst their conversation, bumped her sister in the side sharply and shot a glance at Haroah. The silent sister glared for a moment at Yirah until she was done with whatever she had said. Yirah frowned at them.

  “'You cannot go on like that when her brother is worried. Especially, since he did not develop wings! They know what they are facing and will struggle enough without your childish outbursts.'” Yirah quoted her sister to the group. Issy nodded. Yirah shot an apologetic glance at Haroah as Jax continued his dialogue grumpily after unjust interruption.

  “Cybil will need help to heal, as will Melody,” Jax said. Guilt marred his features.

  “We should all focus on giving them love and support,” Yirah advised. She smiled at Haroah, who returned the smile weakly and nodded.

  “Is Melody okay?” Haroah asked hesitantly. “Should we not see to her?” Jax shook his head.

  “She is not well, really. Cybil may still be bathing her. Melody keeps saying things that do not make sense, or maybe they are in different languages,” Jax described. Yirah hopped up.

  “Cybil should be resting, not bathing Melody. I shall see to them,” the guard said to them as she ran up the stairs. Issy excused herself silently and went back out the front door. Jax and Haroah remained in the tavern drinking on their warm cider. A long while passed in silence.

  “I cannot believe I left my sister,” Thane stated as he descended the stairs. His expression was tortured and angry. Thane looked out the window and saw the three remaining men who attacked Melody slowly start to pull themselves from the ground. Noticing as well, Jax got up and walked outside, followed closely by Pinter and Thane. The Freeroamer had warned the rest to remain seated.

  Some of the men had recovered, but did not dare move. There were three men sitting up and twelve still lying dead in the dew covered grass. Three men burned, cracked and broken beside Melody while the earth around her lie scorched, leaving a circle of sad, dead grass and leaves. Jax disregarded Pinter's warnings and walked out in front of the three men remaining from Melody's attack. Pinter walked angrily behind him. The big man twirled his red beard, which the Freeroamers recognized as his authoritative gesture.

  One of the men, Jax recognized as the leader of the group and the man who ripped Melody's shirt walked up to Jax and put an arm on his shoulder. Jax felt his rage surfacing. He fought his first instincts as hard as he could and his body began to quake from his anger and inner struggle. The man slapped his back as he spoke.

  “Shake it off son,” the first man told the Conjurer, mistaking him for one of his own men. His breath reeked of alcohol and years of neglected hygiene. Jax clenched his jaw as the man continued, “She was only a little wench. A little fiery, yes, but she wan’t even ‘at pretty, yeah?” Jax turned on his heel and deliv
ered a hard blow to the side of the man’s head. The man staggered drunkenly and spit out the blood that filled his mouth, but did not fall. Jax stood still, his heart beating in his throat as he waited for someone to speak.

  Pinter eyed the man coldly.

  “She... dint even protest!” The second man choked. The man Jax had punched ran at Pinter when Jax –without a hint of effort- grabbed his ponytail and ripped him back. Jax grabbed the man's throat and threw him hard against the ground. The first man lied feebly searching for his larynx. The second man sat down on the ground, weeping silently. The third man was ominously silent.

  “What say you, Roke?” Pinter said, indicating the third man. The third man sat upon the ground, exactly where Melody's Ether had thrown him. He had been the closest not to die.

  “The last sight I will have ever seen was an impossible light devouring evil men. Did I see an angel?” The third man asked. He looked up in Pinter's direction, his eyes vacant and unseeing. Pinter's expression faltered into a moment of fear and shock. He looked at Jax. Jax shrugged.

  “You say they were evil, yet you were among them?” Jax asked, his voice straining against his outrage.

  “I was there, Sir,” the third man said, his voice small and unhappy, “I was drunk and I did not immediately recognize their intent. When I realized they were going to rape her, I was trying to leave. I was thrown down to the ground beside her and I was scrambling away when she flared.”

  “Do you mean to say you had no part in it?” Pinter asked, his tone accusatory.

  “No, Sir. I mean to say that I am not evil. I made a mistake. I committed a crime and I will take my punishment,” the third man said. He averted his blind gaze to the ground and waited silently.

  Jax tied the men up, one at a time until he came to the first man. He was in bad shape from Jax's beating. When the Conjurer bound the man's hands behind his back, the man spit on Jax. He smiled a wicked smile.