by Jamie Day
Gwenn enjoyed the lake, too. Perhaps it reminded her of the horse meadow back home. I wished I could take her there, just once, so she could run like I knew she wanted. I felt the same. I was learning that the captivity of fear was no different from the bonds of men. I didn’t like living this way. Darian must have sensed my angst.
“We can go now,” he would tell me each day, “I’m feeling better. Let’s find the scrolls. Then I can find my key and go home.”
“Not yet,” I kept answering, after checking his wound. If we don’t let this heal right, you may never use this arm again. I didn’t like my deceit, but wasn’t going to let him try to leave. I needed him, and if father was right, we couldn’t just walk into Aisling to find the scrolls. I also didn’t have a plan.
One night, after digging for mushrooms near the rotted stump of an oak tree, I found milderon, the main ingredient for Liquid Night, a magnificent faerie potion that offered energy. Darian was healing, though not fast enough. If I could brew the potion, I had a chance to end the despair of our dull routine. Darian lifted his head as soon as I started brewing.
“What is that?” he asked. “It smells good.”
“We call it Liquid Night,” I told him. “It should complete your healing.” I knelt by him and rubbed his forehead. “Get some more rest. It’s still early.”
Darian smiled; I could tell my touch was soothing him. “What’s in it?”
“Nature,” I said. “Go to sleep. It’s a faerie secret.”
“Faerie?” Darian sat up as if he’d been awake all along. “That’s what the men called you.”
“I know.”
“What does it mean? Are you some sort of creature?”
“This needs to cook all night,” I told him, avoiding the question. “Go to sleep. I’ll tell you at dawn.”
“Are you a—faerie?”
“No. Please go to sleep.”
Darian leaned over the kettle and watched the thin vapor rise. “Is it magic?” he asked.
“It’s nature,” I repeated. “Nothing more.”
Darian stared at me, his eyes penetrating and searching. I wanted to look away, but I caught myself staring back. My heart skipped and my fingers started to tingle. Whatever he was, wherever he had come from, he was so captivating that I wanted to know more. I needed to.
“I was a faerie,” I admitted. “Before you came.”
He wasn’t fair. Darian reached toward me and lifted a strand of hair from my face. “The fire brings out the color in your hair.”
Sean had said those words to me. They were his words. They were words I loved, words that could only come from his voice—until now. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I turned away from Darian before he could see. Walking to the wall of the cave where our meager supplies were stored, I moved them back and forth on the pretense of tidying them up.
“What did I do?” asked Darian. He didn’t approach me, but I felt him watching, probing.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Everything was spinning. The cave, the flames, the memories of Sean.
“Is it about the faeries? I’m sorry.”
“It’s not about the Fae!” My sharp words filled the cavern, echoing through the darkness. I turned just enough to flash Darian a glare. “You don’t belong here. I was happy before. Then you—” the tears fell and I let them. “—you showed up with your friendly voice and your lies.” I grabbed a small rock and threw it against the wall. I missed the man, but he ducked anyway.
Without speaking, Darian chose a burning branch from the fire and wandered toward the depths of the cave.
“Where are you going?” I yelled. I wasn’t done with him.
Something echoed back to me that I didn’t understand.
“Come here! You can’t go back there.” A sob choked my breath, leaving me with only a hoarse whisper. “It’s my cave.” I glared at the fire, cursing it with spite for the trouble it had caused. The small kettle shifted. I dared myself to kick it over, but I couldn’t. Liquid Night was precious; even in my rage, I wouldn’t destroy it.
While my chest heaved in anger, I turned to watch the cave. He wasn’t coming back. The darkness was damp, and empty.
“Darian?”
No answer.
This had to stop. The man brought out the worst in me. How did he do that? I hated him, but I also needed him. He was my hope for redemption—my only chance.
“Who are you?” I yelled with all the strength I could muster and stood at the edge of shadow trying to decide if I should follow him.
The gate on the other side of the fire shifted.
“Darian?” He must have gone deep into the cave.
No sound.
I dashed toward my pile of supplies and fumbled in the sack, eventually retrieving the knife Father had given me. Then I rushed to the opposite edge of our cavern and peered toward the night. Nothing moved. I couldn’t see well—the light from the flames still danced in my eyes when I closed them—but the gate stood solid. Beyond it, past the cave entrance, the forest lay still.
Stepping backward while watching the darkness, I moved away, wondering if my shadow had chased an intruder. I crouched low, trying my best to appear invisible in the light. I cursed my own thought. Waiting. Waiting. I leapt toward the gate and probed the air with the steel blade.
Nothing.
It was useless. In my anger I had imagined a threat when there was nothing. Shaking my head, I returned to the fire. If there were someone, or something, what chance would I have? I wasn’t a warrior. I had only wrestled Leila and Nia, and they beat me most of the time. The only person I had ever injured was…Darian. I remembered the trap.
I didn’t wait. I dashed deep into the cave, yelling as I ran. “Darian!” The darkness enveloped me, but I could still see enough. Tiny details that I had learned over the last several days allowed me to run without seeing where I was. That ended quickly. I found myself in complete black. I scraped the walls to my side and the ceiling above me. It would be one bad thing to bump an elbow, and a worse thing to bang my head.
“Darian?” I kept moving forward.
Somewhere ahead of me was a trap, a hole that I wouldn’t be able to escape if I were to fall. I started taking nervous steps, testing the floor with the toes of my sandals before firmly putting any weight down. What was I doing? If he had fallen, I couldn’t help him; I couldn’t even see. I was helpless, but my only options were to keep moving or quit, at least long enough to go back to the fire and fashion a makeshift torch.
“Rhiannon?”
“Yes, I’m here.” I answered him before thinking. What was I thinking? I wanted to crouch and hide, but I knew it wouldn’t work. Instead, I stood and waited until the light found me.
“Have you seen it back here?” he asked. “This place is amazing.”
I nodded. I wasn’t upset; I wasn’t afraid; I was grateful. Grateful that he hadn’t disappeared. Grateful that I wasn’t alone. “There’s a trap,” I told him. “You need to be careful.”
“I saw it.” Darian gestured with the branch; its flames had lowered to a silent orange and red glow, but it still served a purpose. He stared at me; I saw the details of his nose, his cheeks, and his chin. His dark hair curled past his eyes and over his ears. “Are you going to throw something again?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“You still hate me, don’t you?”
I nodded. “You don’t understand what I’ve been through.”
He lowered his face and grimaced. “You were right. I don’t belong here.” He leaned against the wall of the cave and slid to the floor. Then he propped the glowing branch next to him, changing the angle of the shadows around us. “I would have left a long time ago…if I could.”
I knew what he wanted, but wasn’t allowing myself to be swayed. I still needed him. “Are you ready to help me?” I asked. “Once we find the scrolls, I can help you find your way home.”
“I know the way. I just can’t get there.”
I w
aited for him to continue, curious how a person can know their way home, but cannot get there without a crystal. Instead of answering Darian stared at the burning end of his branch. I watched his eyes and then turned to watch the glow and its contrast against the darkness.
“May I hold that a moment?” I asked. Grabbing the branch from his hands, I lifted it in front of me and used the flame to draw. I waved it in a giant arcing circle and made a smaller one at its center. “That’s home,” I said as the image faded. “The Fae—the faeries call it baille, the symbol for home.”
“You are a faerie.”
“No, I’m not anymore. Faeries are supposed to be perfect. I was. My life was.” I had to pause; I had said too much already. “Then Sean disappeared.” I watched and waited for the next question, wondering how much he understood. How could he? No one knew exactly.
Darian watched the tiny flames dance on the branch between us. He didn’t speak, but looked at me quizzically. The confusion on his face convinced me that he wasn’t aware of what had happened. I continued my tale.
“Word came that Sean was being held by men from Morgan. They demanded a ransom for his life. I tried to be strong. I asked for help. There’s only so much trying and asking will do. So, I took action. I took the Fae Scrolls,” I said, gasping as my voice whispered of the cave walls. “I stole them from the Faerie Temple so that I could save my fiancé—so that I could save Sean.”
“That’s why you’re not a faerie anymore?” Sean stopped staring at the flames. “How were you caught?”
I closed my eyes. Even in the dark I wanted to hide. “I admitted to the other faeries that I took them.” I wanted to stop, but Darian watched me with such curiosity that I felt like telling him everything I had done. He wasn’t judging me. At least, it felt like he wasn’t. He had the same look as Sam, the boy in DarMattey. “When Sean died, I was furious. Everything I had wanted to save was gone. Once I heard the Elders had caught you, something came over me. I was nothing like I was supposed to be.” I stared back at Darian. “I was cruel to you. I’m sorry.”
Darian spoke again. “I still don’t understand. How does this involve me? I never did anything. You took the scrolls that everyone wants.”
“I took them from the temple,” I said. My voice shook. “Then I gave them for ransom. They were stolen again before it could be paid.”
Darian leapt to his feet and winced as his head struck the ceiling near the wall. He cursed something I didn’t understand.
“I didn’t do this,” I said. The tears started again, but I fought them away. “When the ransom wasn’t paid, Sean’s captors killed him.”
“It still has nothing to do with me.” Darian yelled so loud that the echo of his words mixed with the next. “I didn’t take the scrolls. I didn’t kill your boyfriend.”
“Fiancé.”
“Fiancé then! It wasn’t me.” Darian leaned close and grabbed my shoulders. The smoldering branch in my arms almost touched his face. “Whoever you gave the scrolls to, that’s who you should blame. They could have lost the scrolls. Did you ever think about that?”
“He couldn’t,” I said. I tried to wriggle free, but Darian’s grip was tight. I waved the branch, but he had already released me. “A bandit robbed my friend’s home and stole the scrolls.”
“I’m not a bandit!” Darian screamed so loud that tiny droplets of water fell from the cave ceiling. A couple of them sizzled when they reached the burning branch. He leaned toward me again, but then stepped back as I waved the flame in warning. “I’m sorry about Sean. I really am. I wish he were here right now.” He paced the lighted space, reminding me of my father. When he stopped, he spoke again. “All I want to do is go home.” He spoke deliberately as if to keep from yelling. Behind his words was the pressure to explode.
Somehow, I wasn’t frightened. I interrupted before he could speak again. “I believe you,” I said. “I believe you. That’s why I’m helping you.” I reached toward him and touched the back of his neck. Tiny chill bumps rose to meet my touch. “You asked why I’m not a faerie anymore. I’m telling you my story.” My voice was soft and didn’t carry to the walls to echo. “After I attacked you, I needed to tell the others what I had done. I was exposed.”
“Wait.” Darian reached for my hand and found it.
“I am sorry. I was upset.”
Darian fell to the ground and lowered his head.
“I was horrible to you.”
“You’re not horrible.”
“No, don’t say that.” I dropped to his side. “I’m awful. Even a moment ago, I don’t know what happened. I’m so angry about you, and about Sean, and about everything.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“You can hate me,” he said, “but don’t apologize for being angry. It sounds like you’ve had it rough.” He stood and guided my hand to join him. “And so have I.” He started walking toward the cave entrance. “I need to sleep through this.”
I released his hand. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m trying to make it right.”
I didn’t know what to say after that. I followed him, torch in hand, until we reached the remnants of our fire. The cavern there felt warm and comforting. We didn’t talk. Kneeling to arrange our separate sleeping spots, we didn’t even look at one another. I guess the moment had overtaken our needs; it left a reminder that enemies weren’t meant to act this way.
~ O ~
Morning reminded me of the potion I had prepared. The scent of Liquid Night sifted through the smothering musty smell that had become part of cave living. I yawned and moaned, refreshed from the pleasant dreams the night had offered me. Then I remembered where I lay. Across the chamber, Darian’s sleeping spot was empty. I let the smile return and rolled close to the kettle to check it. It was perfect. The liquid night was everything it needed to be. In fact, I longed to taste it for myself, not that my dreams needed any comfort.
I was placing the kettle carefully in the dirt when Darian returned from outside the cave. “I picked some more leaves,” he announced, proudly displaying a handful of Andelin leaves. “I must have found the same tree you were taking them from. It was starting to look barren.”
I winced at the thought of my foolishness. Anyone looking for us could see it as a sign of our activity. “You shouldn’t need them any longer,” I told him, trying not to sound too forceful. I wanted him to help. “I’ve completed my potion.”
Darian knelt in front of me and peered into the kettle. “It smells like licorice.”
“You’ll enjoy the taste.” I snatched a cup from our pile and dipped it into the kettle. I offered it to Darian. “Drink this,” I told him, “all of it.”
He did as I asked and grinned when he finished. I watched him, waiting for the effects of the medicine before turning away. When his eyes stopped focusing, I took the cup from him.
“How do you feel?” I asked, though I knew the answer.
“This is great.”
Darian looked at the roof of the cave; I knew he couldn’t see it. In his mind, I was certain, he saw whatever wonderful thing made him the most happy. The potion worked that way. Not only did it heal the flesh, but also it energized the part of people that mattered the most—their wanting.
I dipped the cup again and offered him another taste by placing it in his hands. “Here, drink some more. You’ll have your energy back in a moment.”
Darian returned the cup to me when he finished. “I want to find the scrolls today. What do they look like?”
His question was puzzling since he had been accused of taking them. I would have thought someone would have described what we were seeking. Then I remembered. No one had seen the scrolls. Outside of the Fae, Cael was the only one who had seen them—when I gave them to him. The only other person would have been whoever took them from Cael.
“They’re scrolls,” I answered, “wrapped in leather.” I held my arms to indicate their length. “They would be pretty easy to recognize, since the writing is all
in Fae.”
“The faeries have their own writing?”
I nodded. “Oh yes. They used to speak it, but nobody does any longer. I only know a few words.”
“Tell them to me.” Darian smiled. I wondered if I had given him too much potion.
“I shouldn’t,” I said. “Since I’m not a faerie, it doesn’t matter what I know.”
“Pretend.” Darian was insistent. “I want to hear it. You’re the first faerie I’ve ever met, even if you deny it. And I think it’s fascinating.” He motioned to the kettle. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have made that night potion.”
“Liquid Night.” My own words proved his argument. I inhaled a deep breath and said to him the first words I ever learned in Fae. They were jumbled, and I knew if Raisa Bannon were there, she would have corrected my pronunciation. I had forgotten how out of practice I had become.
Darian’s smile told me he didn’t know my flaws.
“Do you want to know what it means?” I asked him.
“No.” Darian kept smiling. “It’s magical not knowing. That way I can give it my own interpretation when I dream about you saying that to me.”
His words made my cheeks warm. I had given him too much Liquid Night. “If you never took the Fae Scrolls,” I said, changing the subject, “and they never made it to Morgan, might they still be in Aisling?”
“Where?”
I shrugged. The scrolls could be anywhere: hidden under a stone, tucked secretly in barn, stored safely in a home. I gasped, remembering the fires.
“What’s wrong?”
“If the scrolls were left in a home that burnt down, then they’re lost forever.” I cursed at myself for thinking such a thing.
