by H. A. Harvey
Riona asked Xain to sing the verse for her, and the Dwarf obliged, introducing it as The Chronicle of Lord Torren’s Fall and the Rise of the Son of Ava. Xain began the song, and Riona joined in wordless accompaniment; her delicate soprano providing an enchanting counterpart to the Dwarf’s husky bass. The fairy tune was not identical to the Dwarven ballad, but seemed the perfect counterpoint to it. Rowan soon found that he and the others were all watching and listening in rapt attention to the alluring duet, as much a counterpart to each other to the eye as to the ear.
Rowan did not know a word of the Dwarven tongue, but found himself drawn into a vision of majestic halls hewn from stone, filled with glittering riches and the gleaming armaments of an invincible force of Dwarves. He watched as the force marched out of their magnificent subterranean citadel and down the sheer slope of a mountainside. At the mountain’s foot, the dark gleam of the Dwarven ranks met a force clad in golden armor, wielding gilded spears. This shimmering force extended as far as the eye could see and seemed to carry shapes resembling most of mortal kind.
The armies clashed violently through day and night. Though the dwarves fought valiantly, the tide of gold steadily swept up the mountain until it reached the gates of the citadel. There, a figure in armor of pearlescent white stood before the gate, bearing a great wall shield and axe of the same strange metal. He was built like a dwarf but towered over the heads of all the mortals present. A slender, golden figure whose stature matched the Dwarven lord emerged from the enemy ranks wielding a twin-headed voulge whose blades writhed in arcing white fire.
The two champions crashed together in a horrific duel. The force of their blows shattered the Dwarven gate and tore down columns of stone from within the citadel as their battle raged through into the heart of the city-fortress. At last, the final blow was struck, and the white champion collapsed at the feet of his golden destroyer. The victor held his terrible weapon aloft then spun in an arc, his blades tracing a perfect circle about him in white fire.
As though he were an eagle miles off, Rowan watched as a line of white flashed through the waist of the mountain. With a roar of cracking, crushing stone, the mountain’s peak collapsed in upon itself, leaving in its place a shimmering golden palace. A ribbon of water emerged at the peak of the singular high tower set upon the edge of the oval structure. It traced its way down and through the palace, across the plateau, and plummeted over the edge into the wasted valley below.
Rowan sat in the colored light of dusk, disoriented for several moments before he realized that he had never left the Brogan Vale. He was seated with everyone else, at the feet of Xain and Riona as they stood beneath the elm tree. Suddenly, a tiny, nude girl no larger than a finger zipped up to float on gossamer wings between the duet singers. The little pixie applauded wildly, emitting a string of light, tinkling noises.
“That,” said Xain, “Was tale of last battle in founding of Avan Empire, almost ten-thousand years ago. Some day girl, you will tell me how Human knows a part of this tune.”
“She had a very old teacher.”
Rowan turned as Nian’s voice came, not from the grove, but from the shaded grass just behind them. Nian strode toward them, wearing a dazzlingly rich garb and a broad grin. As startled and relieved as he was to see his friend, Rowan was more surprised by Nian’s companions. Three small figures composed of roots, which matched Riona’s description of spriggans, stood behind him setting silver trays on the grass.
Behind the spriggans on a stump stood a small, chubby creature that looked like a giant radish turned upside down and sprouting stringy arms and legs. The thing’s bulbous head-body was almost entirely taken up by a broad mouth of sharp teeth and a single, lidless eye and was framed by two comically long, pointed, floppy ears. Rowan guessed the creature was what Riona called a ‘red man’. It stood staring back at Rowan while it tied the silvery reins of Kolel’s horse, now fitted in tack and saddle matching Nian, to the stump before bounding off into the woods.
Rowan turned his attention back to Nian as he drew nearer. Seemingly to Nian’s surprise, Rowan grappled his friend in a fierce hug. When Rowan finally let Nian breathe again, the boy laughed.
“What are you laughing about?” Rowan snapped angrily, “We’ve had no idea what could have happened to you. Then Riona comes out ahead of you and won’t tell us about this challenge you’ve gotten us into?”
“It’s good to see you. It’s been a long day is all.”
“You slipped off into the grove three nights ago, Ni.”
“Ok, three days explains why it feels so long. I’m just glad to be back, Ro.” Nian smiled, “There will be time to deal with the challenge in the morning. For now, Riona’s back, I’m back, and we managed to face one thing without someone dying. The fairy queen sent this food as a sign of her good will. Let’s rest and celebrate one night of victory.”
Rowan glared at his friend for a long moment, but finally broke into a smile. He had a point. For once, things had all gone right. He threw an arm around Nian’s shoulders and headed over to the fairy’s feast. No convincing was needed for the others to join in. The fare offered on the platters was some of the finest fruit, vegetables, nuts, and bread he had ever tasted, with what had to be royal citrus honey in copious amounts. Rowan contributed some fresh venison and rabbit he had been able to hunt down in the last few days. The silvery mead was by far the lord of the feast. Its smooth flavor combined decadent sweetness, rich earthy tones, and a sharp sour note with intoxicating perfection. A host of pixies, nixies, and tiny glowing sprites joined the feast. The sum total of their portions could have fit into a shot glass, but the music and merriment they added to the celebration was more than a troupe of circus performers might have contributed, so they were more than welcome.
. . .
Autumn sat outside the edge of the party’s light, her back resting against the rough trunk of the elm with her heels tucked up close to her haunches. She stared idly into the grove, lost deep in thought. She’d spent every night communing with the ancients since coming to the valley, but nothing seemed to change. Perhaps the impossibly old ash trees of the grove could reach deeper. Perhaps it would be worth being in thrall to the fair folk to find out. Why should she even need to answer to them? That place wasn’t built by or for them. It was her heritage more than theirs.
Autumn’s reverie was broken when a nixie flitted over and landed on her knee. He smiled and gave her a polite bow, fluttering his satin wings showily as they luminesced in soft purples and golds. She wanted to swat him, but shoed him off irritably instead. The nixie fluttered off into the shadows, only to return a moment later with a daisy over his shoulder like a spear. He hefted its blossom toward her and smiled again. Autumn stared at him flatly, which only seemed to prompt him to shake the flower and change the color on its petals to mimic her hair, with deep crimson cores and golden tinges along the rim.
Autumn puffed at the persistent little imp, the blast of her breath sending him reeling several feet back. The nixie buzzed back to flutter in front of her face. He hovered there a second, then bent forward and kissed the tip of her nose. Autumn snatched at the fairy, but he agilely danced up and out of her reach, disappearing into the branches above. Once he didn’t return to pester her for a minute, she settled back into her thoughts. Then, he came back, and brought reinforcements.
Nian suddenly stumbled around the trunk of the elm, trying in vain to fend off the nixie as it zipped and dove at his head. He caught sight of Autumn and stumbled to a stop. The nixie vanished into the canopy again, leaving a peal of bells that sounded like laughter. Nian started to leave, but stopped and sat in the grass a few feet away.
“Go away.”
Nian took a deep breath, “No. If you’re angry and need to lash out, feel free, but I’m not leaving you alone. Not now.”
“What do you want from me?” Autumn demanded.
“Nothing.” Nian replied simply,
and Autumn found herself believing him for some reason. “But you’re hurting. I don’t believe you’re the sort of person who could lose what you have and not be.”
Autumn stared at him and almost subconsciously reached up to touch her cheek where Rowan had struck her. It hadn’t hurt. Honestly he had been more likely to injure his hand than her, but it still stung.
“You know that when a Dryad loses their grove, they always die? It doesn’t injure them directly, but they just stop. They stop everything. When mine burnt, I didn’t. I always thought it was just that I’m not all Dryad, so maybe I’m not like that. But now I’ve been thinking, maybe I was just so young I hadn’t latched onto things yet, because I feel it now. I’m not angry, or hurting, or anything. Almost everything I am feels like it was ripped away, leaving me empty. I feel . . .” Autumn trailed off.
“Uprooted.” Nian finished for her.
Autumn laughed ruefully, “Maybe a real Dryad would have thought of that term first, but yes.”
They sat in silence for a while. Nian shifted awkwardly.
“That’s not just a Dryad feeling, Autumn.” He finally said softly, “I lost my mother, not too long ago.”
“Rowan told me.” Autumn confessed, “It’s not the same.”
“Maybe not, but it’s close.” Nian countered. “My mother wasn’t everything I had, but even then, I almost didn’t keep going. If I hadn’t had Rowan there, and Karen to go after, I might not have.”
“No, Nian.” Autumn struggled to try and explain. “Fae are slaves to their emotions, their blood shifts from ice to boiling with the slightest push. Something that would make you happy, makes a Fae rejoice. You may like someone, but a Fae loves. A slight frustration to most becomes murderous rage.”
“Except with Dryads.”
“No, we’re still like any other Fae, except for our bond with the ancients.” Autumn stroked the root of the elm absently. “We can . . . bond with old trees, any beyond a mortal’s lifespan. When we commune with them, the mercurial parts of ourselves are stripped away. All that’s left afterward is what Dryads consider our true selves. We don’t trust our initial emotions, no matter how strong the impulse. Only those things that the ancients have left us with are relied upon until we can commune again.”
“But this doesn’t go away,” Nian echoed her own thoughts, “Does it?”
Autumn hung her head and wept, “I don’t want this hole to be part of me. I just want it to stop.”
There was more silence. Autumn saw Nian start to reach for her, but pause and withdraw his hand. Autumn quietly cursed herself for burning the last bridge she might have had.
“You didn’t though.” Nian finally said softly.
“What?” Autumn asked, wondering if he had somehow read her thoughts.
“You didn’t stop.” Nian declared, “You said that Dryads just stop, but you didn’t. Maybe the hole Adair and the others left won’t go away. I know the hole for my mother won’t, it’s part of me and always will be.”
“That doesn’t help, Nian.” Autumn answered ruefully.
“I think it will. Either you’re more like us than you think and you’ll get through this eventually, or you still have at least one thing to hold onto.” Nian sighed, “But if I’m wrong, there is one way I think will make it stop.”
“What?”
“The queen can.” Nian nodded toward the grove, “When Riona was held in the court, the queen banished all memories of sorrow. Only if you do go in, and convince her to take you, I don’t think you can ever leave. When the queen set her free, everything taken from Riona rushed back all at once. You’d have to face this, the burning of your grove, and everything in between in an instant.”
Autumn stood slowly, gazing into the grove. The place was hardly ominous, nor would it be a prison. To be among those ancient, powerful ash trees, and wander the streets and walks of so grand a place would hardly be the worst fate of which she could think. Being surrounded by music and laughter, remembering little else, would be far better than life out here. Nian stood and stepped beside her.
“Would you just go?” Autumn pleaded.
“No.” Nian declared again, “I’m sorry if I throw you off-balance, but I’m going to stay. Whatever you decide, I’m going to be here.”
“Why?”
“The painful moments and the hard choices are when it’s important to be there for someone you love.” Nian answered slowly as he took Autumn’s hand in his own, “And because I might not have another chance to say that I love you.”
Autumn looked down at their hands. No sorrow. She was filled with sorrow right now, but somehow there was a tinge of something else. The warmth of Nian’s hand, even just his presence, wasn’t something she wished to forget. Would this moment vanish in the embrace of the fairy queen, because of her sorrow? Would it be worse if she remembered his hand, and that it felt warm and safe, but not the abyss she hung over as she clung to it? Somehow, she felt it would leave the memory hollow and incomplete.
Adair had first met her in the midst of sorrow. He had held her until her tears stopped then, and a hundred times since. Would she remember how she came to love him at all? What use would a protector have been if she hadn’t been afraid? How could his advice sound wise if she hadn’t been confused and frustrated? She knew more than anything that she would forget their last moments together, that she had frozen before the oncoming rain of arrows, and Adair had proven he was not too old or slow to save her one last time. Autumn closed her fingers tightly around Nian’s hand. There was too much she did not want to forget.
“It’s you.” She whispered softly.
“What is?”
“The only thing left of me.” Autumn turned and embraced Nian tightly, resting her head against his chest. “When I commune with the elders, the only thing there besides pain and emptiness is you. There’s always been a reason for someone to be there before, but you’re just there. I’m so broken right now, I don’t know if I even can love you back.”
“I said I wasn’t looking for anything from you,” Nian chuckled softly, sending a pleasant rumble along Autumn’s cheek. “So I’d say that knowing I’m a part of you is more than I asked for.”
Autumn felt Nian’s strong arms wrap around her and his lips press softly against her temple. They stood together in the dark for a long while, though it still felt like too soon when Nian finally stepped back, sliding his hands down her arms. He leaned down and kissed her lips in a long, gentle caress. Autumn wasn’t certain how to react, and by the time she decided to kiss him back, he pulled away. Nian sat back against the base of the elm trunk and pulled Autumn down to sit beside him. He wrapped them both in his satin-lined cloak as she curled against him. Autumn closed her eyes and found herself wishing for the sound of falling rain that had been their lullaby before. Instead, she listened to the rhythm of Nian’s heartbeat, with the muted jovial sound of fairies dancing in the background until she fell into her first real sleep in days.
. . .
Rowan slowly realized someone was calling his name, and shaking him. It was warm, almost too hot. He forced his heavy lids open to see Riona hovering over him with a female pixie perched on her shoulder, both looked upset. The warm afternoon sun shone down through the forest canopy. He tried to sit up, but a soft arm around his chest tugged him back to the grass so hard it nearly took the wind from him.
Rowan blinked in surprise and looked down the length of him. Next to his shoulder, a head of tightly braided, fire-red hair poked out from beneath their shared blanket of Kaesa’s wolf-hide cloak. Rowan shuddered as he realized that the ‘abomination’ that Nian described as hurling men in armor around like paper dolls lay with her bare limbs coiled around his body in an intimate embrace. Rowan tried to lightly unwind her arm from his chest, but Kaesa stirred and drew him snugly against her soft bosom.
“Rowan!” Riona shook him again, “Yo
u hafta get up. They’re gone!”
“The fairies?”
“No! Well, yes, most of them got bored before I even fell asleep and wandered off,” Riona amended, “But Nian and Autumn are gone. I expected him, but she wasn’t supposed to wake up in time to follow. I don’t think she had any of the nectar. Rowan, will you please get up?”
“I can’t, she’s stronger than she looks.” Rowan said distractedly as he started to tap on Kaesa’s shoulder to try and wake her. “Wait, what did you mean you expected Nian to go? You were in on this?”
“Not at first,” Riona shook her head, “But I figured it out when they started passing out the living nectar. Rowan, Nian agreed to fight the drake we saw to earn my freedom, but the queen mentioned Autumn and Xain are supposed to die soon . . .so I think he tried to go himself to keep them safe. But now Autumn took off after him and ruined everything, so she woke me up.”
“The queen’s here?” Rowan looked about as Kaesa started to stir.
“No,” Riona rolled her eyes and pointed to her shoulder, “She woke me up. I didn’t have much to drink, and can understand them. Besides she’s not strong enough to wake any of you without hurting you.”
“Wha . . .” Kaesa looked around groggily before her eyes crawled up Rowan’s chest and fixed on his own. “What ar ye doing?”
“Uh, Riona, get things together. I’m about to be busy,” Rowan swallowed as Riona darted off, “Or dead.”
Kaesa clambered to her feet, dragging the cloak up and wrapping it over one shoulder and under one arm. Rowan held up a hand and started to attempt providing an explanation while he simultaneously thought of one. Nothing came in time, as Kaesa’s bare arm shot forward. The Njord’s pale hand caught hold of Rowan’s neck and lifted him off the ground. Rowan had to haul on the woman’s wrist with all his might to keep from strangling himself as she pinned his back against a nearby tree.
