THE WORLD ROARED AROUND her, a song unknowable. Allory found herself swayed. This was a power she had never encountered before, a clarion song of gentle yet inexorable allure. She sensed his purity. Should she say but a word, he would without a doubt be hers forever, faithful and true in ways perhaps most menfae could only aspire to.
That fact had to send any reasonable – or unreasonable – girlfae’s heart into a wild flutter.
Yet was this her song?
Her reply resolved in her heart as she considered the soul-melody revealed by his appeal. No. Something close, but not this. It was not about his worth or her lack of worth. This sense went deeper. Far deeper. She failed to understand it in the slightest.
Slowly, through dry lips, never more aware of the potential for injury, she faltered, “Harzune, I am Allory of the Scintillant Fae.” Now, the silence grew profound. “I do believe in prophecy and through my imperfect understanding of ariavanae, I sense its indelible imprint upon your life. Your heart is the truest I have ever encountered, beautiful through and through. Yet this … I’m sorry, but this is not my song to sing.”
Suggids! I am the biggest fool in the jungles after all!
He gasped, “You …”
“Harzune, it would not be right. I am not – I cannot be yours. I’m sorry.”
The tent exploded in laughter. Perhaps it was not meant to be cruel, but the chorus of outright mockery at last brought a shadow of real pain to his gaze. He was a true believer. Denial of his inmost beliefs had just been thrown in his face, not only by her refusal, but by his entire colony.
Blindly, he stood, his hands falling to his sides. His posture stooped, gripped by mortal pain like that Dryad’s tree had been, he made to leave.
Allory knew the true force of such despair. Far too many times her sap had been thus afflicted. She could stand to leave him so broken.
“Harzune,” she croaked.
“I … I must go.”
Those tremendous shoulders quivered with shame and disappointment.
“Harzune, wait.”
“What for?” He turned, yet he did not see her. “My heart is cleft asunder, Allory Fae. What measure of your exceptional empathy, o enchantress incarnate, should it take to apprehend my pain?”
Of course she saw his pain! Deeper than any ache, she saw the soul-crushing depths of his need.
She made to go to him but had forgotten all about the ropes. Pitching forward toward a helpless face-plant, Allory screamed a piercing yet melodious note that careened through the tent, stilling the rumpus. Her fall halted mid-air. Azure sparks swam past her vision. Abruptly, she realised from the release of pressure that the ropes had unwound themselves; actually, they whipped off her so fast that her skin burned, as if they could not wait to effect their escape.
Ignoring the gasps of his family as she stumbled forward, she came to him, rising into the air in order to capture his gaze with her own. Allory realised peripherally that the Scintillant patterning upon her skin had flared, ever so briefly, before rushing out to her wings where it shimmered gently, outlining their veins and edges most especially up to the wingtips, in shimmering haloes of azure-white light.
He searched her eyes. She read desperation there. Perhaps a flicker of hope, coupled with undeniable wonder at this manifestation of her core Scintillant magic.
Softly, she said, “Harzune Fae, I don’t need an instant husband, but I do need a fated hero.”
What? Allory reeled, hearing and then having to re-recall her own words with mounting shock. Is somefae else speaking through my mouth today? This … this is … ridiculous!
His entire colony gasped in one single, massed inhale.
Her entire body tingled as if warming to a raging fire. Yaarah had done this to her, once not so long ago. Now, she must pass on the favour.
For once in her life, her sap buzzed with the exact knowledge of how to respond.
Wetting her lips, she continued, “Harzune, that prophecy also revealed that you were born to be a hero, did it not?”
His turn to tremble!
“Enough of this nonsense!” A wild snarl brought everyone up short as Sabline’s black muzzle and shoulders pushed into the tent. “Give us back our Allory Fae! GNARR!!”
Several Faerie screamed, “Dragon attack!”
The rest snatched up their weapons.
* * * *
Princess Ashueli elbowed her playfully. “You turned him down? How would you jungle folk put it, that sip of cool nectar on legs?”
Allory sighed, “Beyond belief, isn’t it?”
“Depressing, that’s what it is. I’m eyeing him up and the guy barely reaches my knee. Men with wings and antennae are supposed to be off the menu, right?”
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
She gave Ash an elbow back for that sally. “Exactly. You’re not looking, right?”
“Absolutely not,” the Princess fibbed royally. “My motives are as pure as Centresky is high.”
“Mine too.”
The Elf pretended to wipe the corner of her mouth. They both eyed up the hero one more time and shared a naughty giggle. Yummy scrummy nectar!
Once everyone worked out that the colony was not under attack and Sabline, despite an understandable episode of the fiery grumps, really was not about to burn every cocoon in sight, they had spent a most enjoyable afternoon relaxing with the Fae-folk and telling their stories. Yaarah was now ensconced in an avid scholarly discussion with Sharzune. Sabline lurked nearby, judging by her sour expression, probably intending to stymie any other potential suitors from trying to take Allory captive.
As she watched, a young Faeling who was getting her flying wings right, took an aerial tumble and thumped into Sabline’s flank. No snap or snarl ensued. Instead, the Dragoness righted the mite with a soft purr and launched her off her upturned paw with a word of encouragement.
Tough as which kind of jungle blossom, Sabline?
“I must say, I could have done with your line about not needing an instant husband with my father,” the Princess added, twizzling one of her impeccable corkscrew curls with her forefinger. “What do you think their warriors are discussing over there?”
“Not sure.” She eyed the gathering curiously. “I’m also not sure where that whole line about needing a hero came from.”
“It matched the prophecy.”
“Pure coincidence.”
“Allory, that’s nonsense and you – oh. Spot the sarcasm?” Giggle. Ashueli mimed swatting her over the earhole. “The smug snickering is not appreciated, girlfriend. To answer your earlier question, we arrived just in time to hear his proposal. Even Sabline looked impressed.”
The Dragoness’ ears pricked up.
Both girls pretended not to be paying her the slightest attention. Allory decided she could feel the heat of the Sabrefang’s glare from ten feet off.
Ash added, “That’s also when you started to scintillate, Allory. In the gloom of that tent, it was easy to see – plus, I’m learning what to look for, especially when you start going all mystical and spouting words that just happen to line up with a twenty-two-year-old prophecy.” A fist bumped her shoulder. “A little confidence takes a girl a long way.”
“Ouch.” Allory rubbed the spot.
“As if. You’ve just turned down a marriage proposal from the most eligible bachelor amongst the Chameleon Fae. How do you feel?”
“Like I hope I haven’t made the most colossal mistake in history?”
The Elf rolled her eyes. “By my ancestors’ sap, that’s the spirit! Your profound sense of conviction just blew me into the boughs.”
An Elven saying? How quaint.
As they both glanced up due to a change in the atmosphere, she thought she heard Ashueli add, in a low mutter, ‘And how well I know that feeling.’ Before she could dwell upon it, the Princess bounded to her feet to receive a delegation of Chameleon Fae. Not that they wished to speak with royalty, as it turned out. Allory had to scramble to catch up as Harzune, leading no less than four dozen hulking warriors, approached.
He bowed to her.
She bowed back, as deeply as she was able without turning a complete somersault. Words stuck in her throat. With the last rays of Middlesun striking through the crystal formations above their colony site, the Faerie warriors all looked to be touched by fire. Their jewellery shone and sparkled; their broad faces split into grins as the incongruity of the situation was not lost upon them. One miniature sapphire Scintillant faced off with fifty burly Chameleons, men and women alike. Allory noticed that four much older Fae winged a little aside from the posse, the Elders of their colony to whom she had been introduced earlier.
A communal decision? Very Fae.
Deep breath. Try to act with dignity and no hapless ‘eeping’ for a change.
Clearing his throat, Harzune said, “Allory Fae, how truly you spoke when you declared the nature of my prophecy, which we believe you could not possibly have known save by divine knowledge.” Ouch. Now I’m divine? “However, I find myself snarled up in the vines of a conundrum. My brofae and sisfae refuse to allow me to fly forth alone. They argue – and I agree – that no hero is stronger than the family who have his back.”
Sigh. How she wished she had that problem!
Ahem. What she did have, was two Felidragons and a stray Elf who were trying to keep the sparkly one on the right branch. Just about.
Sabline made an approving rumble deep in her throat. Beyond her, in the corner of her eye, Allory noticed the Golden Purrmaine making a slight nod of agreement. Did they know what this meant? Because she had no clue.
She said, “Harzune, I honestly don’t know what to say. I’m not an important … someone. Anyone. I’m the least … and I didn’t mean to stomp all over your destiny, really, I didn’t. Eep! Oh suggids, that sounded terrible. Sorry.”
Flitting forward, he took her tiny hands in his great, strong ones. “You spoke with uncontainable eloquence, Allory Fae. As we related earlier, we have heard rumour of a great foe who rises beyond the Gates – perhaps the original seven vampiari, called the Ascended Septuani, or another creature known to all only as the Wraith –” she gasped and shivered, almost overcome by a sudden, beastly chill as if the entity itself had breathed down her neck at the mere mention of its name “– and we believe it is the rising of this power which you have sensed. We Chameleons are uniquely gifted in the warrior arts. Therefore, we believe that we may serve you best by first offering to help you to sneak through the Gates of Saradoom, from whence we shall travel on to –”
“A place where Harzune will at last talk his own wings to a standstill,” Varzune put in helpfully.
“You’ve zero sense of style,” the hero sniffed, rather unheroically.
“Watch and learn. Allory Fae, we are not all heroes, just ordinary Fae, but we fifty warriors pledge ourselves to your service.”
Her jaw dropped so fast her tongue nearly unfurled of its own accord. “Eep?”
Harzune interrupted, with great disgust, “And that is why you do not apply the blunt instrument of communication to such a delicate matter, brofae. Tsk tsk. Mind you don’t hurt yourself with that tongue of yours.”
Allory spluttered, “You … you pledge yourselves –”
Suggids, did I just hear right?
“Relax, it’s only for the cause,” Varzune clarified. He and his brofae did not half rock the slight, knowing smirk.
Still – phew. Much better.
Now, if she could just control this urge to drool …
Harzune punched him in the arm, not gently either. “You! Delicate and your fat wings clearly don’t belong in the same sentence. Allory Fae, we fifty pledge our undying loyalty to you alone –” Varzune pulled various faces behind his back, coming within a Felidragon’s whisker of making her collapse in hysterics “– for together, those of unswerving courage and noble heart shall confound the vile machinations of all evildoers beneath Middlesun! We shall smite them with the hammer of righteous retribution, upon our honour as warriors of the Chameleon Fae!”
There he went again. Did he practice his lines in front of a mirror? At once, however, she bowed with what she fervently hoped resembled actual elegance.
In a small but clear voice, she replied, “Harzune Fae, I confess I am overwhelmed by all I have seen and experienced here. Your generosity brings home to my cocoon a measure of what I have lost, yet I do hope to recover my family and remedy whatever ails our world. If you Chameleons wish to be part of this endeavour, then all I can say is that I am honoured beyond what my poor words can express. You are more than welcome to join your sap to ours.”
Harzune nodded firmly. “We are yours to command.”
She touched her eyes. “Thank you.”
There. Her part was to sniffle as her personal hero put his colossal arm about her shoulders and told her that Middlesun itself smiled upon her fate. Could her life possibly grow any stranger?