Fae of the North (Court of Crown and Compass Book 1)

by E Hall

  “What happened there?”

  “A long time ago the mage settlement incurred a vampire’s wrath. Using grim magic, they protected themselves from becoming demons.”

  “Why didn’t he just turn them into vampires?” Soren asks.

  “They’d rather be ghosts than demons?” I follow up.

  “No one knows,” Thea says gravely.

  Arth adds, “Demons are villains through no fault of their own. Vampires can suck blood to satisfy their appetite or use venom to turn someone into a vampire. During Bortimal’s reign, he worked with a grim mage to make it so people who were victim to a vampire’s thirst and died after being drained of blood became a demon.”

  “Most magicals can’t become vampires. Though from what I understand, bargains can be made using grim magic.”

  My own blood chills. I refuse to believe vampires are real. Magic, fine. Demons, I’ve seen them with my own eyes, but there’s no way vampires are actually a thing.

  I swallow thickly. “Do these so-called vampires feed on fae?”

  “Certainly. Though according to magical medicine and physiology, they don’t thrive on fae blood or that of other shifters. Like mages, vampires don’t have innate powers of their own. Sure, they have heightened abilities, super strength and senses, and are immortal, but the potency of a magical’s blood, like a fae, for instance, isn’t ideal for a vampire. I believe this is because they were once human and it’s not compatible,” Arth explains.

  I scratch my head. “Okay, but if humans are only born in the Terra realm, how did vampires get here?”

  Arth smiles genially like he’s pleased to offer this Magic 101 class. “Before the Rift, the portals were plentiful and diplomacy was favorable between the two realms. However, not all magicals behaved themselves while in the Terra realm. Our Unseelie Fae kin performed trickery and acts of evil upon the humans. Even though vampires are native to the Terra realm, they were lumped in with the magicals and the Borean delegation was forced to take responsibility. The vampires were sent here using a grim spell. Since the Wicked War, relations between the two realms have failed and now only native Boreans can travel between the two.”

  “What about vampires?” I use air quotes around the word because I really don’t want any of this to be true.

  “Unfortunately, they can travel between realms too.”

  “And I thought my government’s politics were complicated.”

  “I think that’s enough lessons for today,” Thea says.

  “Wait, I have another question. Can a vampire bite a fae and steal their shadow?” My skin prickles.

  “Demons steal fae shadows,” Soren answers. “Maybe the mages didn’t want a life of fae-hunting to be their fate.”

  Arth nods as though that’s possible. “Many demons remained from the Wicked War but seem to be multiplying in recent years...as if they’re preparing for something.”

  “To create a Shadow Army,” I say.

  Thea stills a startle and takes my hand. She closes her eyes again. Her fingers are rough and stiff, but they seem to close and seal around mine as if moving through skin and bone and into thought and memory.

  “What do you see?” the man in blue asks.

  “Dreams not her own.”

  I pull away, suddenly uncomfortable.

  Thea must realize this because she drops my hand and smiles apologetically. “Please, eat and drink.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  They lead us past the fire where couples continue to dance, along with people our age and children, all wearing flower crowns and wreaths in their hair. We reach a table laden with food—juicy meats, roasted vegetables, squash filled with toasted nuts, honey-hued rolls, and plump berries topped with cream.

  Another fae summons Thea and Arth, calling them back to the celebration. I’m left deep in thought and take a breath, realizing I was holding it.

  After we eat, Arth leads us to the doorway of one of the domed mounds I saw when we were approaching through the meadow.

  “This is my turf house. You’ll be very comfortable and warm. Please, make yourselves at home.”

  “We don’t want to impose,” Soren says with stiff politeness.

  “Please stay the night, and on behalf of the Court of Briar and Knoll, I wish you a safe journey to the mountains.” He turns to leave.

  Soren and I collapse into the beds at the back of the low-ceilinged house.

  I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep, my mind spinning with thoughts of the journey, what’s to come, and an obscure truth that can’t find a place to settle.

  “Are you awake?” I ask Soren.

  “Yeah.” His voice is low and scratchy.

  “I’ve always ignored my dreams even though they often seem more real than some of the stuff my brain makes up. School, my mother, and life, in general, did not prepare me for everything that’s happened in the last few days. I knew demons were real, which suggested that magic was too, but not how it’s a part of my life.”

  I wait for Soren to speak mostly because I want answers. But he doesn’t, leaving me feeling empty and alone.

  Chapter 16

  Soren

  In the bed beside me, which feels much too far away, Kiki falls quiet as my father’s stories and fae whispers morph from memory into clarity. I don’t think this conversation should wait but have had to put a lot of thought into how to best approach it. I cross the room and light a candle.

  She sits up, her eyes wide with alarm, rimmed red, and tracing my every move as though afraid I’m going to fly away and leave her alone.

  I take a risk, sit beside her, and draw her close. She nestles under my arm like she needs comfort. I certainly did when I was a kid and the world seemed like it was spinning out of control. Kiki is grown, but I imagine this is a lot for her to handle.

  “Kiki, have you ever heard of dreamweavers?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, still tucked under my arm. She feels so right by my side like she belongs. The flare in my chest doubles and brightens.

  I release her, put another log on the fire, and then return to sitting so we’re facing each other. My fingers drift along the glitter beneath her eyes and then I lift her chin. “Sometimes dreams don’t make sense. Other times they’re fragments pulled from waking life that we’re trying to process or find meaning in. Dreams take many shapes, and I don’t know much about being a dreamweaver, but it’s a rare fae power. I think you dream other people’s dreams.”

  Kiki is still quiet as though processing this information.

  “There’s a rumor that the silver king is a dreamweaver. That’s another way he was able to defeat so many of the fae. They were trying to rise up against him, but he saw their dreams, learned their weaknesses, and after setting Raven’s Landing ablaze, he ordered the demons to take their shadows, one by one.”

  She swallows hard.

  “What will happen if the king and I enter each other’s dreams? What if we did already?”

  An involuntary shiver wraps around my spine. I don’t answer because I dread what I don’t know. Nadya’s voice uttering Vespertine as we left her stall echoes in my memory. I repeat it now.

  “Do you think he can help?”

  “As long as you’re not afraid of the dark. From what I’ve heard, he’s not a sparkling ray of sunshine.”

  She settles back, and I hold her until her breath softens into sleep. My eyes remain wide open because I’m afraid of the dark and the unknown, though I’d die before I told anyone.

  The silence of morning breaks with a shrill kraa, followed by a low gurgle, and finally the trill of a raven. I rush to the door to see the edge of a golden wing, wheeling away and into thin clouds. I imagine the golden raven is checking in and making sure Kiki is on the right path.

  On the stoop to the domed house is a block of cheese, bread, a pouch filled with dried berries, and another with dried meat.

  I spread the tapestry on the table, studying the next leg of our journey.

/>   Kiki doesn’t stir until I open the flask of honey tea. Its spicy aroma overwhelms the small space.

  “It’s still warm,” I say, holding the flask out to her when she sits up. “We have a long trek, with a few twists and turns in the road.” Although I admire the construction of the turf house with its efficient use of space to conserve warmth, I’m eager to feel the earth beneath my feet instead of it hanging over my head.

  She takes a sip of tea and her eyes brighten with determination.

  Outside, the fire from the handfasting festivities still burns strong. Instead of dancing, the people surround the blaze, wings glinting, arms linked and they sway, singing a low song.

  Not wanting to disturb them, we set out in the opposite direction, toward the Bogs, leaving behind the open and airy bluff of Briar Knoll.

  We track along a winding trail down the edge of the cliff. Wet marshland spreads below, gradually giving rise to a sparsely wooded area in the distance.

  “Looks straightforward to me.” Kiki plods along next to me as though the weight of the conversation tethers her back to the fae we met last night.

  I mutter, “Looks that way. I’ve heard strange things about the Bogs.”

  She doesn’t ask what I mean so maybe her thoughts have already landed in the mountains where she hopes for answers and explanations. I wouldn’t necessarily count on either.

  Trudging through the wetlands is slow as we try to stick to high ground, skipping from spongy bits of peat to clumps of moss, sometimes going far out of our way not to set foot in the turbid water.

  “I knew this wouldn’t be straightforward,” I complain.

  We run out of loose bits of ground to use to keep our feet dry, but it’s also too shallow to row a boat—not that we have one. The feathery clouds from earlier bunch into thunderheads. By the time we’re halfway between Briar Knoll and the Bogs, our boots stick in the muck and both of us wear sour expressions. Then the sky splits open, and it starts to rain. Despite the water now coming from every direction, we press on.

  I feel like growling at something or at the very least shaking my fist at the sky.

  All at once, Kiki laughs wildly. “This is worse than cleaning up demon goo,” she says. “I was never able to imagine something less pleasant, but this is it.”

  Each step feels impossible, and I can no longer track our progress, ahead or behind us, because of the dense sheet of rain.

  I reach for her hand. “So we don’t get separated,” I say as a thrill shoots through me and she laces her fingers in mine, firmly returning my grip.

  Chapter 17

  Ineke

  Soren clutches my hand and I worry it’s clammy or I’m holding on too tight. I’ve never been scared of anything until now. Through the damp air, I catch his scent of wood smoke and water, cinnamon, and him. So deliciously him. I want to dwell there, but my head has other ideas. In this misty place, my eyes are heavy, but my mind cranks full steam, words and thoughts and scenes turning over.

  “What are you thinking about?” I ask because I need to get out of my head. It’s too unknown.

  “Brown bread,” Soren says.

  I laugh. “Of course you are.”

  “I promise I will get you a slice when this is over and you’ll fall in love.”

  I’ll fall in love. Will I? Am I? “I’ve never felt that way about bread before.” I laugh again...and a part of me doesn’t want this to be over.

  At long last, Soren and I make it through the Bogs, visit the shield fae in Landsdowne, who were all too happy to terrify us with their fierce, golden armor, weapons, and sharp eyes as well as fortify us with more honey tea.

  When we leave the shield fae’s sturdy wooden lodges and buildings, each carved with knotted symbols: curving, trailing feathers of ravens and symbols of the sun, the moon, and stars, we dip down a hill and walk in silence as daylight disappears behind clouds.

  The night before, a shield fae named Kinvara told me she’d met my mother and father. She performed their marriage, in fact. I try to find traction in the words. I can’t imagine my mother getting married. It was always just us.

  Kinvara had said, “I bound them with the Blind Vow. An unbreakable, indomitable, forever bond.” I had dozens of questions, but as usual, the fae were dancing. Soren invited me to my feet and I regret leaving the conversation at the table and whirling to the music until I forgot myself.

  Right now, with my hand snuggly in Soren’s as we cross a stream, I can’t seem to forget, mostly what I don’t know.

  I’d asked Mom about my father a few times. Her eyes turned wistful, dreamy, as though she was still very much in love. But there was a sadness there too like her heart had been broken. At least that’s what I imagined because she didn’t want to talk about it...or couldn’t. But she did tell me how much she’d loved him. What a good heart he had. I wonder if they had a handfasting ceremony like in Briar Knoll. I wonder about vows and bonds and forever. There have been so many questions raised in my mind since I’ve been here I almost don’t know where to begin.

  As we approach the ragged mountains, clawing the steel-blue sky, the air cools considerably. I shiver, still dressed in my uniform from work. That seems like ages ago, but it was less than last week. I wonder if my boss is ticked I haven’t shown up for my shifts. Tiffany is probably annoyed there isn’t someone to pick up her slack. My friends are probably worried sick.

  But I can’t think about anything other than survival. Strangely enough, a demon and my mother entrusted me with breaking a curse and I have to see it through. Not that I have much choice since I’m also in some alternate realm with no way to return home.

  Soren pauses and points at the first mountain peak, interrupting my thoughts. The sun glows from behind a puff of clouds and the moon is a pale orb, a lingering guest. Both frame the slopes of the mountain.

  He pauses a moment, gazing upward in thought before continuing the hike. “Legend goes that the first King of Raven’s Landing loved the sun and moon very much. He was honored to serve them and his people. When his beard had grown long and his days short, he requested not to be sent to the Sea of Dreams, as was custom. Rather, he asked to be brought to the highest mountain so he could be closer to the sun and moon. Pleased by his loyalty, they granted him a boon. The sun and moon made him and his people raven shifters and agreed that he would sleep forevermore atop the mountain, but if his people ever needed his help he’d wake and come to their aid.” Soren’s voice has a lullaby quality as he tells the story. “All the kings have since followed suit.”

  “So are the old kings ghosts like we saw in Nine Days?” Meeting the ghost mages was enough paranormal activity for one weekend thank you very much.

  Soren shakes his shaggy-haired head. “Spirits, I think, is the accurate term. But they’re fearsome and supposedly as mighty now as they were in life. Maybe more so since they’re already dead.” Then he adds, “But they’re not zombies.”

  A laugh, something I’ve hardly done since coming to the Borea realm, rises in my chest but doesn’t find its way out of my mouth. “Do you think Torsuld and the ravens are there?” I ask.

  “I suppose we’ll find out.”

  The strange chatter unique to ravens echoes from the mountains, looming ever closer as though answering. Then the ravens streak from the mountainside, coloring the steely twilight sky black.

  Soren’s attention lifts and he seems to grow even taller. A slight smile spreads on his lips.

  I blink a few times, intrigued by the sight.

  “The ravens were the companions of the kings and battle arms—their eyes above ground. It makes sense that they’d watch over them too. We might be in luck.”

  I tumble this story over in my mind as long brown grass gives way to a rocky path. The sky is pale and the peaks of the mountains form dark, jagged lines.

  We stop to drink the warm honey tea from Landsdowne and then begin to climb. The loose gravel forming a broad sheet slides down beneath our feet as though the moun
tain rejects our ascent. We make a circuitous route upwards, switching back and forth to stick to a thin and broken path.

  When at last, we reach an outcropping, the last drops of the sun—with its dark spot and distant in the western sky—manages to illuminate Soren with a golden crown and bathe the wide valley below in light. The vista stretches all the way to the sea where Raven’s Landing waits for our return.

  With a sudden and wild smile, Soren tilts his head and whoops into the open space.

  His eyes dart to me. “I never want to go back. I never want to breathe that sooty, ink-tainted air again,” he says. Then adds, “But we will. And everywhere we walk we’ll be free just like this.”

  His words chase away the cold and uncertainty...and leave me wanting to see him smile again.

  Chapter 18

  Soren

  The moment of wild abandon is fleeting. It’s too soon and too dangerous to let myself feel at ease. With a wary glance at the clouds gathering in the sky, I say, “We should keep moving.”

  As we climb, my ears tune to the slightest change in sound, shift of wind, and birdcall. My footfalls drop hollow as I test the stability of the rock beneath me, and keep my eyes on the path and a hand in Kiki’s in case anything happens.

  The trail soon widens, leading to a promontory. A man stands before us, wearing a hooded cloak in black, silver, and gold fabric that shifts like a raven’s wing glinting in the sunlight.

  I steel myself as the image of Leith brakes sharply in my mind. But he doesn’t wear a crown. Nonetheless, I’m ready with my weapons.

  Kiki’s hand tightens in mine and the other hovers near the blade in her belt.

  We stare openly at him for a long moment until he beckons us onward.

  I’m not without reservations, but the only other choice is to go back down and we came here for a reason. I don’t intend to leave until we’ve fulfilled our purpose however vague it may be.

  The figure in the strange, shimmering cloak leads us up the mountain until the sun and moon move closer in the sky, one rising and the other falling as though meeting for a moment to say goodnight. We reach a second promontory—this one sheltered by an overhang at the mouth of a cave.