AS THE SHOCKING REQUEST hung in the air between them, Allory quickly mimed tracing the dangling of her jaw with one fingertip.
The girl hissed savagely, “Oh, various personal reasons to do with gilded cages, sheer boredom and a small prophecy over my life that has just made sense for the first time!” As the Scintillant’s jaw dropped open in consternation, a mischievous smile curved her lips. “Do shut the insect-catcher, there’s a good girl. No point in unhinging anything important.”
Snap. Dragon-snappy!
“We’re off. Come on. Hop back into the cage.”
What the freak?
Allory heard herself screech, “How’s about you shove off and go toss yourself off the highest battlements, Your Highness, get caught mid-air by a friendly Fire Raptor and ripped apart before you – oh, sorry. Overactive imagination?”
With a fluid bow and a wry smile, Ashueli indicated the cage. “Fooling nosy servants being our top priority. Cage door stays unlocked, of course. It isn’t far.”
“Right.”
“Perhaps you don’t quite appreciate the severity of my allergies to gilded cages?”
Suggids! Offended much? Allory sighed and offered the forceful Princess a proper apology before she had her head chewed off in a non-Dragonish way.
Not far was exactly right, but she of the arresting beauty and devious intentions did bump into five attentive servants in the space of three corridors, her father’s devotion proving every ounce as unreasonable as she had suggested. Ash simpered and reiterated her joy at having an intelligent creature to keep as a caged pet – causing the Fae a certain degree of silent simmering – and declared that she simply must share her delight at Durc’s generosity with Zinueli Sylvanchild without delay. Decent actress.
Entering her mother’s chambers, she engaged in several minutes of meaningless chitchat until by some feminine or Elven understanding the conscientious maidservants were dismissed – spies, Allory concluded at once – and another pressure differential advertised the further workings of Elven magic.
Did Durc Durhelm know how much magic lurked in certain chambers of his castle? He must suspect, surely?
Then, following another sweep of the curtain, Allory flitted out to meet Zinueli, who looked hardly a day older than her daughter and every inch as gorgeous. Well, at least seven inches shorter. Estimate.
She also had a warm smile of greeting for the local winged curiosity.
Truly disconcerting to meet with a person who resembled nothing so much as a living artwork. Zinueli wore robes of a similarly vibrant green colour, richer and more ornate than her daughter’s outfit. She could also speak whole conversations with the mobile expressions of her exquisite features, listening attentively as Allory sketched out her quest to rescue her family and thwart the designs of whoever out in the great world of Spheris wished to misuse and abuse Scintillant Fae magic.
Allory’s eyes compared mother to daughter. Where’s the Human in this Princess, eh?
Better not say that aloud!
In the brighter lamplight of this chamber, Allory observed that the Elves were not tan of skin as she had assumed, but rather more bronzed, a rich and almost metallic skin tone. Their eyes differed from the rounder Human type in addition, being larger overall but with a strong canthal tilt and epicanthic fold similar to her own. Yaarah was right. Fae heritage had to be far more complex than she had ever imagined – or perhaps these were universal characteristics and less to do with the different races than she supposed? Not a few hours ago, Allory recalled thinking that Human features made them look bug-eyed and improbably surprised. What did they think of hers? Or her insectoid antennae?
Suggids, yet again! Someone has a great deal to learn about dealing with other races.
Meantime, mother and daughter touched foreheads, exchanging private words in ultra-rapid Elven. After a minute or two, the older woman nodded. “It’s agreed, then. My spirit travels with yours.”
Ashueli smiled at the Fae. “Told you she’d be awesome. Ready?”
Just like that? Impetuous.
Flitting down to perch her petite behind upon a pot of fragrant cosmetic, Allory smiled shyly at Zinueli, this powerful Elf, one of the five de facto rulers of Durhelm Castle Yaarah had alluded to. The Elf smiled back as if mildly bedazzled to be meeting a creature quite so dinky and dainty.
Allory suppressed an instinct to primp and preen. Seriously?
Instead, the sapphire Scintillant chirped, “So, am I to understand that you are quite comfortable with the idea of us burgling Durc’s dungeons in search of a criminal Felidragon?”
With a like-mother-like-daughter dramatic tilt of an eyebrow, she said drily, “I’d advise not getting caught. Clear enough?”
Giggle. “I see. That much alright?”
Nodding to emphasize her point, Zinueli added, “You may wish to know that the Dragon holding cells are located in the canyon-side dungeon wing. The farthest and deepest cell also boasts a secret tunnel accessed via the third stone from the top left, essentially a false panel, which leads to a little-known exit on the side of the cliff. It’s a climb only Elves would dare from there, but with the help of a Felidragon or for those with wings, it would pose no trouble at all. You’d need this to open it.”
“Mother!” Ashueli inhaled sharply.
“What?” she asked.
“Take your Ancestral Signa ring? Mom, you can’t! Allory, this is a powerful and rare Elven artefact –”
“Which I choose to pass onto my daughter at this time.” Smiling, the older Elf reached out to take her daughter’s hand. “There comes a day when even the finest young Elves must fly the nest. I sense that this is your time, Ashueli, for your heart is moved by Allory Fae’s plight and the signs of destiny light the heavens. We have been waiting patiently and preparing for this day, you and me. We must arm you as best we are able with blade and bow and magic true.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Allory had to wonder what she had stumbled into. Zinueli seemed more than prepared to aid and abet her daughter’s teenage delinquency. Well, she was not sure of either Elf’s age. From a few hints she was building up a good picture of what Durc must be like as a father and ruler – a man prepared to use the considerable power he wielded to have his will in whatever he desired, including taking a Faerie for a pet.
Meantime, pressing the ring onto her daughter’s left forefinger, Zinueli said what sounded like a blessing in Elven.
Ashueli’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
Allory asked curiously, “What does that mean?”
“What she just said? It translates as something close to, let’s see, ‘Blade and bow, to smite the foe, away must go, to banish woe?’ It’s much more poetic in Elven because of the way the language works –” Ash grinned sheepishly “– oh, listen to me. Mom, what are you doing now?”
Humming to herself, the beautiful Elf spoke an incantation over her dresser and then pulled out what could only have been a secret drawer.
Ash put on her best scandalised face. “And this?”
“This was meant to be your birthday gift,” Zinueli noted serenely. “I recently had zalish swords delivered from the finest Elven Magesmiths for you, daughter.” The younger Elf made a sound much like Yaarah made, a kind of wordless mewl of amazement. “Here is a quiver of sishume enchanted arrows. You shall bear my own bow with honour. Aye, here we are. Take my hunting horn and travel pack, too. You have your toolkits and concealed blades?”
Allory coughed in surprise as the girl rapidly touched her calves, thighs, forearms, bosom, neck and back. “All present, mother.”
She would not have known the girl was so well armed. Perhaps that was the idea?
Pity the man who decided to trouble this one! Lay one fingertip on the wrong body part and he’d probably lose the whole arm before he knew it.
“May your strong blades guard the innocent whilst drinking the blood of the foe and avenger,” Zinueli added bleakly, buckling a plain emerald-green sword belt about her daughter’s lean waist. Allory had never seen blades to compare to those she drew forth and handed over, a pair of slender dark metal swords inscribed with many arcane runes, but the wielder held them using a handgrip situated right in the middle of the weapon, making for a double-edged blade protruding either side of the hand. Four blades in two? She could not fathom how that worked. Ash even received a hair clip that doubled as a weapon, and a silver torc worn about her neck which was designed to support multiple trigger points for combat spells.
The rather less well-armed Faerie scratched her antennae. This was how Elves travelled the world, prepared to destroy nations singlehanded?
Right. Clearly Spheris must be a safe haven for Faelings and innocents.
Her wings vibrated nervously. Excellent pick on the allies. One sneezed fire and the other clearly sneezed lethal implements of war. Having resolved not hours before not to prejudge anyone again … well, another resounding failure. Suggids.
Zinueli turned to her. “Allory Fae, I regret I have no such gifts to offer you, but the priceless bequest of purpose noble and true infused into my daughter’s life is perhaps difficult to explain unless you have been a parent yourself. Several things. We suspect the Marakusians of acting as some kind of middleman to the Felidragons – but neither group, I suspect, will represent the end of what you seek. Both serve a power revealed to us only as shadow at this juncture. Nor will answers shall not be found here. I would counsel you to travel to Ahm-Shira in the Suylas Deepwoods and inquire there of my grandfather, Amazas the Seer. He knows the old ways like few others. He sees the unseen.”
“He’s blind and mad,” Ashueli spluttered.
“Don’t be narrow-minded, daughter,” her mother reproved.
Allory suppressed a wicked chuckle.
“I meant, he’s a hermit who has a tendency to murder visitors! Allory, speak to my mother.”
Zinueli said, “Those were Marakusian hunters.”
“Four times?”
“If that’s what it takes to learn a lesson. Humans can be extremely hard-headed. Trust me, I’ve been around them for a long time. Meantime, Ashueli, identify yourself clearly to your great-grandfather and I can almost guarantee he won’t try to kill you.” Ash threw up her hands in simulated frustration. “In addition, the Faerie of Ahm-Shira will be able to help you with lore, weapons and advice. Over here, we are quietly gearing up for war.”
Both Allory and Ashueli spluttered, “War?”
“Do you need me to clean out your ears before you leave, daughter?”
“Mom!” Bronzed as she was, Ash flushed a noticeably darker colour. “Does your mother mistreat you like this, Allory?”
“My Momfae? No, but my Dadfae’s a terrible tease. I mean, he was a – he … oh, suggids …”
Shocking how the grief ambushed a person out of nowhere, how it gripped her throat with iron talons and dug in so hard, darkness closed in upon her. Next Allory knew, a hand steadied her with a gentle grip about her torso, stroking her back with one fingertip. Ashueli, she realised belatedly. She might be a walking weapons shop, but she clearly understood a thing or two about sorrow.
Sweet Elf girl. Hardly the worst work on the hand-hug either.
Yet he hit my Momfae. He hurt her, so many times.
Her hands twisted together as if bound to the helpless distress that twisted up her heart. Partly it was the memory, partly the haziness of her recall. Surely, she should remember trauma more clearly? Yet the opposite seemed true of her mind. If she dared to try to summon up the images, it was more impressions and colours and scents that played in her memory. Clashes of bodies, crimson hatred, the oddly mordant tang of his sweat those nights her Dadfae came in from training with the warriors, like the tang of chloric dust commonly used in Faerie antiseptics.
Would a loving Dadfae behave as he had?
In her mind’s eye, he gave her a broad, not unhandsome wink. Her chaotic thoughts swirled, sifted, reformed afresh.
A good girl would forget all about those things. Allory was a good girl. Always.
Of course, he had his reasons. Only the boneyard memories matter …
“He is,” the Elf insisted. “We’re going to go fetch him and ensure he embarrasses you in front of your new friends too.”
“Fantastic,” Allory grinned, albeit wanly.
Ashueli said, “We’ve a bigger problem, don’t we? If war’s beginning with the Axis of Seven, the Human Kingdoms and other allied races beyond the canyonlands, mother, how do you expect us to even reach Ahm-Shira?”
Her mother acknowledged this with a slight smile. “Passing through their territories will be a challenge, I’ll admit, but not one beyond any daughter of the Sylvanchild. I’d show you Durc’s living map if the risk were not too great. The Gasheni Road is your best possible route to avoid discovery or pursuit. Stay low, keep out of sight and don’t get stepped on by any Giants.”
“Giants?” Allory squeaked.
“What about the axis-allied Dragons?” Ashueli added. Way to jangle a Fae’s nerves. “Sap of my ancestors, mother …”
Zinueli said, “If the Felidragon is right and the Elves corroborate his scientific research regarding Middlesun’s woes – aye, word of his inquiries reached my Durc’s council with suspicious haste – then the Giants are perhaps the least of our worries. We’d need to consider who or what would require such power as to drain the illimitable font of our sun, wounding the very heart of our world.”
This Elf understood. What a gift!
Shifting uncomfortably, Allory put in, “Or consider what foe is mad or uncaring enough not to be concerned if they inflict a holocaust upon Spheris. Just that … eep! That little thing.”
Rubbing her antennae and then her temples, she tried to work out what life, what her destiny, meant by landing her neck-deep in this jumbled-up quest she had set out upon. All she had wanted was to free her family. Now she contemplated raiding a powerful warlord’s dungeon to free a Felidragon seen as a traitor by these Humans and his own kin alike. She had released a Dryad to create mayhem in the land, the Pixies had been dusted off and this Elf, somehow powerful yet unexpectedly fragile, had as much as invited herself along for the next stage of her journey.
Her life kept spiralling further into weirdness. Allory decided on the spot that trying to understand what was going on had to be overrated.
Fae flit with fate. Wasn’t that what my Momfae taught me?
Smiling brilliantly at her own confusion, she popped into the air and dive-bombed Ash with a kiss upon the cheek. “Come along, you wicked Elf. Your father’s finest dungeons await the likes of you.”
Ashueli’s fingers leaped to the spot as if she had been burned.
Watch out, Elves, Humans and Felidragons. This Scintillant was on the hunt.