When Anruwan heard of [their love], he grew flush with jealousy. He who ruled under the Sun brought the matter before the High Father. At the news, Boidhan took joy in the pairing. He overruled Anruwan, marrying Dara and the elftress in the sight of the Sun. This was the first Great Celebration, and Naude painted the sky in the pastels of love while Dervalia performed sonnets of longing.
And from that union began a people born of love: the Wood Elves.
-The Faerie Beginning, c. BUE 1000
----------------------------------------
GALENDRIA
“If flee’n you now, none shall pursueth you. Be gone! Or dost thou defiest Ferngal? Wishest thou to battle?!” The great she-bird’s threat rattled through Galendria’s mind, shaking her core like trees in a summer gale.
She gaped at the body of the drake slumped against a tree. Not more violence. Please, not more bloodshed. Guilt ran hot down her stomach. She had called this creature upon them to their doom. Flee. Run.
She could not run without Fenn.
She whirled to her betrothed where he trembled near her, and then followed his frozen stare back to Krid.
Mell slid to the ground next to the fallen Captain, healing already gathered in her hands. “He’s alive!” she cried. The glow of her circlet was faint as she released the dregs of her energy into him. The drakeman stirred with a moaning growl.
Fenn teetered and dropped to his knees before the Watcher. “No. Please, no battle.”
She couldn’t tell if he had collapsed or knelt on purpose, but when he fell, he pulled her heart with him. The pain of almost losing Fenn was still raw within her; she knew what he felt. And she knew what she feared.
A revived Krid struggled back to his feet, sword drawn.
“No!” Mell latched herself to his arm, dragging him back. “Don’t!”
Mell is trying to stop this. The thought stirred under the tempest of her fears. She could not sit by and do nothing. Not while the Watcher hissed in threat, wings flapping, magic gathering to her again.
We must smooth things over. It’s the only way.
“No battle?” The disembodied voice rang, “Yet the man of scales so desireth. Yes, even now, thy One of the Dark pulleth a dagger. Thinke thou to trick me?” A threatening aura congregated around the Watcher, pooling darkness and despair into the air around her, a strange magic. She seemed to grow in stature and terror, blotting out the last rays of courage with her shadow.
Fenn hunched forward in a pleading bow, his eyes wide and watery. “No, I-I–” He looked like he might throw up.
We need someone like my father. An ambassador to make peace. Galendria stood, even as her knees threatened to buckle out from under her. It was time to act. If none of the others could do it, she would try. She wobbled to Fenn and placed a hand on his shoulder, then knelt and bowed her head. The first step is always to find common ground, her father’s words. What do we share with this creature?
She breathed deeply, filling her stomach as she would for a song. And as with song, her voice came to her, carrying with it the words to speak. “Great Watcher, though our companions act violently from fear, we, like you, have no desire for the harm of your forests’ creatures. Rather, we come as explorers searching for answers about the gods you served, the ones who created us elves, as they created you.”
The Watcher’s talons flexed impatiently. Gale flinched, but finding her next breath had not been cut off, she kept going.
“I understand your mistrust. Like you, I but days ago believed that there were no Doors between the realms. Yet through ages of seeking and study, this elf, Fennorin of Etnfrandia, found one–and opened it for us.” She squeezed his shoulder gently when she spoke his name, trying to impart a shred of the hope she wished she had. “All we desire are our lives spared, and with them to pass through your forests–”
“Enough!” The Watcher swooped from her perch, diving toward Gale. She hummed for a shield. Fenn tried to shove her down, but he slipped and fell away.
The watcher’s claws opened before her eyes. Then, the tall shield of the Everguard’s defense appeared on her arm. The Watcher’s weight splintered into it, and the world spun. Metal clinked. Her brain rattled as she thudded against the ground, which rocked and blurred around her.
When she finally picked up her head, she discovered she was strewn across the dirt, one arm twisted outward, limp, still attached to the dented shield. The Watcher stood over her.
“What, darest thou tell, es this?” Her yellow eyes stared unblinking at the shield.
No one spoke. Gale forced her head to turn to Fenn, who gaped at her, gasping. His mouth closed when he met her gaze.
“It’s her creation,” Fenn’s voice pinched so tightly that it barely came out, “a conjuration of sound.”
“I wishe thou mentionest sooner, mine little sister. Stande. I shall inquire of thine soul.” Ferngal stepped back from Gale to wait. Her mood, it seemed, was as changeable as the pixies’. “Dropen your weapons, all. This shall be finished soon.” The she-bird spun her head, placing her expectant stare on the others, one by one.
To Gale’s surprise, Syrdin appeared from the forest behind her and tossed a dagger onto the ground, next to one already fallen near Gale’s shield. Had zhe thrown that to protect me? Zhe pulled another and dropped it, too. The others dropped theirs as well. Even Fenn remembered himself and set aside his crossbow and scabbard. Syrdin glared at Gale with an iridescent gleam under zheir cowl. Don’t get us killed, it seemed to say.
Gale moaned and dismissed her shield so she could free her limp arm. She hauled herself onto her knees, lifting the arm carefully with the other, teeth gritted against the pain. It dangled from the shoulder, aching, only dislocated as far as she could tell. She tried to force her trembling legs under her, but got no higher than one knee before she slipped back to the ground at the Watcher’s feet with a grunt.
Fenn flinched, one of his hands open as if he would help her, but the Watcher stood between them.
Gale forced her face toward the Watcher’s, meeting her piercing yellow eyes. The threatening aura had dissipated, but her presence and appearance were enough. “What questions havest thou for me, Great Watcher?”
“Hoo,” the noise came from the creature's throat, and her feathers splayed around her shoulders and neck. “Hoohoo, hoo, hee, ahaha,” the airy chortle mingled with the disembodied, feminine laugh in an unholy cacophony of noise. “Questions? None. Stande, child, become stillness. I shall seeke thy heart.”
Seek my heart? Gale choked. She imagined talons ripping her heart from her chest. Rigid with fear, she once more forced one leg onto its foot, this time managing to follow it with the other.
Ferngal’s four wings spread with a rush. Gale braced herself. Every corner of her being wanted to flee from before the presence of the Watcher, from the dread of one of those thunderous flaps which had nearly killed Krid.
She swallowed. The magic that had circulated around the she-bird, turning her ablaze just before her deadly stroke, did not gather to her now. Instead, she stepped forward so that her talons straddled Gale’s skirt.
Face to face, she was tall, taller than any creature Gale had encountered. She towered over her, leaning back on her legs and arching forward at the shoulder to curl her owl-like face over Gale. Her eyes were large, their pupils round like the appearance of sunflowers trapped behind the clearest glass. They drew Gale in.
Ferngal raised her wings, and magic swirled to her. Where before there had been an orange blaze and the smell of the hot summer wind, now the magic circled her as threads of light. She opened her beak over Gale’s upturned face. Magic tugged at Gale’s insides. Lines of light like smoke trailed from her own eyes and nose and bubbled up from her throat, pushing open her mouth. They mingled with the threads around the Watcher, forming a yarn-like ball between their faces.
Then, Gale was elsewhere. She smelled the fresh pine of the Etfrandian forests and saw Fenn at play. He toyed with that crystalline spyglass, a Truth’s Eye–and she knew it was a Truth’s Eye. The vision blurred, and in the warmth of her home, she practiced. She hummed, the notes resonating with the energies in the world, and a vase, gently aglow, formed in her hands. Though her father’s voice scolded her, a pleasure colored the memory: the Watcher’s.
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Then there was a chill wind. Between crisp spins at the hands of an acquaintance, she saw Fenn, hair powdered with snow, sitting miserably by a fire at the Winter Festival, and she knew with sadness that he would not dance.
Now she argued with her father beside a roaring hearth about whether they could trust a Willowbirth with her happiness, her secret. The vision accelerated. She could see the deeply shadowed face of Ceann Willowbirth leaning over Fenn at the Center of Culture. Then there were the Everglow Mountains, dark against the stars, with Fenn and Krid running ahead of her. She saw the flash of the barrier opening, and she was standing in the Faeworld, again, her face inches away from the open beak of the Watcher.
Her body convulsed, her back arching. Then the magic released her. Tiredness fell heavy over her; it was the kind of tired one felt from an entire day spent studying, but instead, she had been the one read.
The great Watcher leaned back on her feet, her voice soft now. “Thou riskest much to come, little sister. Thou tellest truthfully, and much more I wishe thou wouldst to mention sooner. Whence would thy goest? For here thy must never linger.”
Never had breathing felt so heavy, nor thinking so fuzzy. Gale forced her way through her weariness. “From a poem. The place where the light first touches. Please, do you know where that is?” Did she call me little sister?
“I knowe not whence. And ever still, your presence boden trouble. You shall leaven, or I shall chasee you away. The lands nearest hence lies, as I flye, such that the sun shineth on mine front right wing. Away, you five!”
As Ferngal spoke, Gale caught movement behind her. Mell was waving her hand. Gale glanced at her, confused. Mell gestured, making something of a point with two flat hands. A plea? But her palms weren’t together. She changed gestures, closing her fists together while leaving her two pointer fingers in the air, tips touching. Is that a spell?
Gale pushed through the weariness, trying to recall what Mell might want to communicate; what they had discussed the day they first sought directions. Religion. A song of worship. The sun god. The dawn?
“Great Watcher!” Gale bowed. “We will away with haste! But please, we hope our quest takes us to the dawn! Do you know where–whence we can find it?”
“Hoohoohoo!” The Watcher shuffled her feathers in amusement. “Thou seekest the dawnfields! Flyen, you, with the sun on your backs. Finden them, you shall, beyond the Yellow Wood, across the snakende River Serenity. Caution! Bringen you no trouble upon the creatures there, or calamity shall findeth you!”
“You are merciful, Great Watcher,” Galendria bowed again. “And we are undeserving.”
“Be gone, little sister!” The Watcher turned her back, spreading her four wings, “Mine mercy liveth as short as the yuka falleth.” With that, she launched into the air and faded away as a shadow fades into the dark.
Galendria collapsed into the ground in a puddle, still clutching her limp arm. Blessedly, this time there was no shivering. The experience had drained away even her fear, leaving just a hollow tiredness. She couldn’t believe Ferngal hadn’t killed them.
“Well, it doesn’t take a yuka long to fall. Guess we’d better get going,” Syrdin scooped up zheir knives and replaced them in zheir belt. “Too bad the wise little sister couldn’t be bothered to ask about mountains or temples.”
Gale groaned. Mountains and temples. Mell’s gestures suddenly made sense. The few drawings she’d seen of temples always had steeples.
“Don’t be that way,” Mell’s voice rattled, even as she chided. “She just saved our lives, which is more than you can say.” She knelt beside Gale, prodding her shoulder painfully.
Gale clenched her teeth and bore both verbal and physical proddings. She was too exhausted to protest.
Syrdin snapped zheir third knife into its sheath and turned to Mell. “Don’t pretend you didn’t want to find the creature. I got everyone moving. That’s all.”
“And almost killed,” Krid interjected, his voice graveled with ire. “Now will someone explain what happened? The voice in my head was gibberish, and I don’t understand how that didn’t end in a fight, nor how that thing didn’t kill Fair Gale. Was it a Watcher or not?”
“Really, I think we are all a bit confused. I’ll explain, just give me a second…” Mell placed her hands carefully around Gale’s shoulder. “This might hurt.”
A flash of white crossed Gale’s vision and she heard herself cry out. Then her shoulder ached and her forearm, which apparently was shattered inside, blazed with pain.
“Sorry, I’ve got no healing left, but it is in place. When you heal it, it will heal well.” Mell patted Gale’s uninjured shoulder and turned to Krid. “It was a Watcher named Ferngal, and…”
As Mell continued to explain, Gale whispered healing into her arm, easing the pain into a dull memory. Finally, she turned to her right, where Fenn had been. He sat on the ground, silent, staring at her with an ashen pallor. He was exactly where he had fallen, as though it had never occurred to him to right himself. The expression on his face was unlike any she had seen. He had looked at her at times as if she was some question he couldn’t answer or a puzzle he couldn’t solve. This was beyond those curious looks. It was a baffled awe–a confused admiration.
“That must have been the bravest act I’ve ever seen.” He spoke in that hushed tone reserved for the presence of greatness.
She felt her cheeks turn hot and faced them toward the ground. “Thanks. But you know, I could see her magic aura. I knew she wasn’t going to hurt me.”
He shook his head. “Not just the soul-reading. You stood up for us. You got a Watcher to listen to you.”
“Only for a moment before she attacked me.”
“But for a moment longer than I could, and again after.” He took in a breath, as though there were more for him to say, but let it go in favor of a half-smile.
Gale felt a thrill awaken in her under the tiredness. A Watcher listened to me. Her so-called bravery may have nearly gotten them killed in the first place, but it had also saved them. She had only done what she believed her father might have. If that was brave, then she was brave. She could live with Fenn thinking of her as brave. She smiled a giddy smile. “You should have seen my knees shaking. I was certain we would all die.”
Fenn cleared his throat in what was almost a laugh. “Yes, that’s something I think all of us could relate to.”
They were silent for a moment, listening to Mell and Krid discuss whether it was safe to make camp. The idea of forming a new home base in this forest was out, but for the moment, they agreed that they needed to move away from here and rest.
“What did she do to you?” Fenn asked, finally.
Gale chewed her cheek as she pondered how to answer. “I’m not sure, but she saw my memories, and my desires with them. It was as she said: she read my soul.”
“Did it hurt?” He shifted toward her, cocking his head. “Did you feel anything?”
“I could see the memories, and they all brought up strong emotions, but no physical pain.” It was hard not to wither under the questions. They had all been potent memories, many related to what had been her bosom secrets: her magic, her rightful heritage, and the hurt and hopes she held toward Fenn. Gale found herself shrinking into her sleeves and pushed her hands out through the holes. I faced a Watcher. I can answer some simple questions.
“Well, I’m glad it didn’t hurt you.” Fenn scratched at his temple. “Erm. Was there any pattern to the memories, or did she read your whole life?” He turned his gaze eyes downward, thankfully too embarrassed to ask the specific contents of the memories.
Pattern to the memories? She could easily see how they were all related, in some way, to her connection with this place; either in the motives, circumstances, or the person that brought her here. But why the Truth’s Eye? It could be simple; it was the trinket she held onto in memory of their friendship from before Fenn had ever left Etnfrandia. But she had not known what to call it before. She straightened against the urge to hide within herself. “I think they were relevant to why I personally came to the Faeworld. Some of them don’t quite seem like it, but those were mostly related to you. And my magic.”
He leaned back and sighed. “I suppose that makes sense. Painless, but invasive of your inner life. It must have been something like a mind-reading spell, only focusing on your motives and emotions, rather than your thoughts and intentions.”
Gale jolted with alarm. Mind-reading?
Fenn kept talking. “And relating to your magic? Well, I suppose she would want to know whose magic you wielded. And seeing as she is a forest Watcher, I suspect she would appreciate your Daraish m–”
“There are mind-reading spells?”
Fenn blinked, his trail of thoughts spoiled. She felt a little bad, but he nodded his answer. “I’m afraid so.”
It was no wonder he had refused to let her go home. Sadness tugged at her, as did the desire for rest. She set her mind resolutely on camping. A walk sounded long and difficult, but a meal and bedroll away from all this violence would be worth it.
She stood, pleased to find she no longer wobbled. The importance of what she accomplished that day settled on her like the warm glow of embers in a winter’s blizzard, bringing her hope. She had been strong in the face of strange, Faerie dangers and had saved more than one life. She may not have prepared for this journey with study or training, like the others, but she had already proven herself. The Watcher had even shown her some form of respect. Little sister, it had called her. A faerie Watcher! True, she didn’t know what that meant, but she understood that it was special.
With her newfound confidence, she turned to the other three standing in a circle. “Since we’re all in agreement that we should move on before we rest, may I suggest we start moving?”