MAGICAL DESERT
BEFORE SMALL SANDCASTLE STALKS
ENJOYING THE QUEEN
-Rirrul, Sultana of the Sands
The village spread out before them as they crested the hill. Her gaze was at once drawn to the giant, glowing stone artifact, pulsating red in the middle of the village. Zaahid had called it a Porter, but she had no recollection of such an artifact in any of the books she had read. Whatever it was, it must be exclusive only to Aseosos and on top of it all it radiated high magical properties that she could feel all the way from here. It was tainted with something dark too, something…foreign and yet familiar. She glanced first at Royce and then Ella, both of whom had the ability to sense magical properties much like she could. Would they be able to feel it too? If their grim expressions were anything to go by, they too felt the darkness in the magic. The feeling that it didn’t belong here, that it was wrong.
As they approached the entrance to the village, she stared at the foreign architecture. There was an ominous atmosphere that surrounded them as they entered through the burnt, red-colored sandstone walls that surrounded the village. The difference between the golden color of the Ariyé desert to the burnt red of these sandstones seemed to further prove Zaahid’s claims. They were not from here indeed. The paths through the village were wide and empty with the decaying rooftops and unmaintained streets giving the impression that no one lived here. She would have believed that impression too if she hadn’t seen people peering out through the windows of their worn red sandstone homes.
Zaahid and his riders had pulled ahead of her party, stopping at a large building that looked to be their stables. She raised her fist to signal everyone to slow down, stopping right by him. He graciously offered his hand to help her down.
“That’s quite alright, You’ll soon realize that I’m no true lady,” she said teasingly, swinging a leg over and sliding off easily. Her smile caused him to arch one of his eyebrows questioningly.
“I may have grown up in the wild dunes, but I do know how to treat a woman lady or not,” he replied mildly. His eyebrow was still raised, and she couldn’t help but laugh, bringing a smile to his face as they waited for everyone to finish dismounting. As their horses were led off by the stable hands to be taken care of, the sounds of her injured men reminded her of what needed to be done before anything else.
“My men,” she began, turning back towards him but he had already signaled for some of his men to carry the wounded to one of the nearby houses that had a sign with a staff and snake.
“Our healer lives there; he will take care of them as best he can.”
They both watched the men carry the wounded over while a middle-aged dark-skinned man clothed in green-and-white stepped out. He quickly surveyed the situation before issuing orders quickly, stepping aside to let the wounded into his home.
“I’ll go with them, make sure they are taken care of properly,” Edmund said before lumbering after them.
She didn’t move to protest; she knew Edmund would ensure they were taken care of as best as possible. Before he could enter, the healer gestured for him to drop his weapons by the door. She nodded to him as he glanced back with a scowl, before letting his heavy shield and sword drop down. He would feel naked and even more weary in this strange village, but this was nothing unusual as most places of healing required weapons to be removed before entering.
As she watched her men be helped inside, her attention was captured by the insistent hushed whispers from Jeran to Ella.
“You should get looked at too Ella,” Jeran urged but the fairy refused to budge.
“I’m okay, I don’t need urgent care. I’ll visit Riezal when we return,” she said tiredly.
Shea spoke up, “No, you should see the doctor just to make sure. Jeran, would you escort her?”
The blonde-haired man nodded his head before extending out an arm for the fairy to grasp. She took it only because her queen commanded her to and shuffled her way towards the house. As she watched them go, a curious thought floated through her head. How was she able to understand these strange people but not read the writings on the signs of the establishments that she was sure was their spoken language?
“How are you speaking Aenish if you’re not from here?” Shea asked, voicing the question in her head as she turned back towards Zaahid.
“Aenish?” His brows furrowed. “Is that you're language? I thought we were speaking Seolish.”
They stared at each other; the confusion mirrored on both their faces. Her eyes drifted past his face to the giant stone artifact in the background, still pulsating with chaotic magic. Could that artifact be allowing them to understand each other despite the different languages they spoke? She had nothing else to go from and it did seem the best sort of explanation.
“I think that artifact might be responsible,” she said, pointing towards it.
Zaahid turned around, staring at it with a curious expression. “The Porter?” he asked.
“I don’t know what a Porter is. You can tell me more about it later tonight.” She sighed, suddenly feeling the exhaustion that adrenaline and curiosity had kept at bay. “Is there a place where we can stay?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
“I’ll take you to the inn, it’s not far from the stables.” He gestured for her and her companions to follow him and they did so, trekking through the town that remained empty of its people.
*~*
Jeran and Ella stood in the corner of the small house quietly, watching the healer work. Edmund had already claimed a chair as his own and now sat backwards, placing his chin on his crossed arms across the back of the chair. His eyes never left the healer and there was an intensity about it that would make anyone working under such a gaze nervous, but if the healer felt it, he didn’t show it.
“Will they make it?” Edmund finally asked, breaking the quiet and most likely the concentration of the healer.
The healer didn’t pause in his work however or answer right away. Ella was worried that Edmund would shout at the poor old man but to her surprise, he remained calm and quiet.
“They will live, but most will not be able to fight again,” the healer finally answered, looking up at the three of them.
Jeran and Ella both sighed in relief, sending a quick prayer of thanks to the goddess for her benevolence. Edmund’s mouth tightened, however.
“You should have let them die then, most of these men live for fighting. They will have nothing going for them now,” he muttered.
“Edmund!” Ella gasped, astonished at how this man could be so callous.
The healer frowned, turning his gaze to Edmund. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t show such a cavalier attitude on the sanctity of life around someone who has vowed to save anyone they can. As a healer, I believe that all life is meaningful. These men may have lived to battle, but they have been given another chance at life and may perhaps find something else they can live for.”
Edmund opened his mouth ready to give the healer a piece of his mind but thought better of it and chose to glare at the healer instead. He didn’t want to get kicked out of the house and leave his men alone with this unknown man. As darkness began to settle around the village, Jeran lit the candles surrounding the house. The healer kept checking on the soldiers, replacing bandages and herbal pouches as needed or feeding them herbal remedies he brewed. He kept asking them to leave and go to the inn, but Edmund would not budge from his seat and Ella, who had her injuries taken care of earlier, decided it was best to stay here too for fear that Edmund would do something stupid otherwise. After some more time had passed, she had ended up claiming an empty chair and fallen fast asleep, exhausted from her injuries and overusing her magic. Edmund, though beginning to feel the exhaustion himself as the adrenaline faded away, refused to close his eyes. He didn’t want to miss anything that might happen. Jeran however wanted to go back to the inn to report to Royce and Shea.
The healer waved him out the door with directions to the inn and he made his way by the light of the torches that now lit the walls of the houses. Darkness was already disconcerting enough, but darkness in the desert in an unfamiliar village was extremely eerie to him. He moved quickly and kept a wary eye on the shadows, all too aware that the inhabitants of these unfamiliar buildings were watching him.
*~*
Royce kept a careful observation of their surroundings as they walked through the village. The houses and streets all appeared the same to him and he wouldn’t be surprised if one unfamiliar with the village’s layout got lost. He thought that it was a good strategy to deter bandits and other potential dangers. The other men that had come with Zaahid had broken off to go their own ways awhile ago, leaving just the three. Shea and Zaahid were walking up ahead, speaking softly to one another while he trailed back as far as he could. He didn’t want to give the impression that he was eavesdropping even though his elvish ears could pick up the words as clearly as if they were speaking beside him. He settled for continuing to survey the surroundings to distract himself from whatever intimate exchange they were having. He did not want to be trapped in the village if something bad happened and they had to leave.
“Just up there,” Zaahid called out for his benefit. Completely unnecessary but he supposed he should appreciate the gesture, it's not as if he knew about the sensitive hearing of the elvish folk. He looked forward again and caught the man staring at him. Or more specifically his ears. Royce was never one to feel self-conscious anymore about his physical attributes. Being a half-elf meant he was treated with contempt throughout his life by both the humans and the elves – neither wanted him and neither made sure to forget to inform him of such. His elven ears were an ever-present reminder of the curse of his birth. but he had learned to ignore the stares, sneers, and remarks. However, under the curious gaze of this strange man, that touch of self-consciousness appeared again and he felt uncomfortable.
“Have you never seen an elf before?” Shea asked, eyeing Zaahid curiously in turn.
“There are no elves in Aseosos. They’re just in stories written of the past. The E’ane’ar, legendary beings who are closest to the goddesses themselves if it were to be believed,” he replied. He paused and then sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to believe anymore now though.”
Shea laughed and Royce cracked a smile at the poor man, mentally applauding his attempt at speaking Seoya, the language of the elves. He also couldn’t blame him for being confused. His whole village had been uprooted from their home and teleported across huge bodies of water to what they had originally believed to be a fictional continent. He was seeing and talking to people he had only ever heard of in stories, and he was taking it well if Royce had to voice an opinion on it.
“Trust me, we are all confused on the events of today. But I’m sure with the information you give us and what we know, we might be able to piece together what happened and send you home,” Shea said, a hint of warmth to her tone.
He smiled gratefully at her, and they continued onwards, catching sight of the inn just up ahead. Royce couldn’t read the sign hanging from the inn, but he admired the image of the horse rearing up with his head mid-toss. It, like the inn, was beautifully done especially when he compared the building to the rest of the village. The inn was large and made of the same material as the rest of the village, but it was clean and decorated tastefully with colored sandstone to form mosaics along the outer walls. Royce could easily pick up laughter and conversation from inside. This must be where all the people come to at night to relax, he thought.
“Welcome to the Stallion of the Desert, best inn throughout…” Zaahid trailed off.
“Throughout your continent?” she teased with a smile.
“Well, yes. I wouldn't dare claim that here though. I'm sure you have a lot of inns throughout your continent.” He returned her teasing smile with his own.
“Is that right?” she said, tilting her head to the side.
Royce watched their interaction candidly. His queen wasn’t above flirting, no, she enjoyed teasing people in such a manner and Royce had never been fond of it. Well, he was also a devoted husband and father to his beautiful wife and wonderful kids. But he also thought of Jeran and was glad he wasn’t here to see the interactions. Jeran had become besotted with the queen and Royce had tried to step in and explain that she was not a fire that could be tamed but Jeran was adamant in his pursuit. Royce could only support the boy as best he could when he had the opportunities even though he often felt as if he was the focus of jealousy within the boy for some reason.
“Royce?” Shea called, snapping him from his thoughts. “Shall we go in?” she asked. Zaahid was holding the door open for them, allowing the light and loudness to spill out into the cool air.
“Of course, my queen,” he responded. She pulled her hood up and stepped in first. He followed, squinting against the brightness of the lamps, and wincing at the roar in his ears. The drawback of elven senses was overstimulation and inns were one of the best ways to achieve that.
“Zaahid! Your usual table is ready and-oh!” a female voice exclaimed from behind the counter. Royce focused on the portly older woman that had spoken, the innkeeper or his wife he figured.
“Thank you Neru Jaan,” Zaahid said, dipping his head to further express his thanks. “I have some guests with me,” he added as she continued to stare.
“Welcome to my inn,” she said politely, eyeing first the hooded woman and then the middle-aged man with pointy ears suspiciously. What man has pointy ears, she thought to herself.
“It’s a lovely place, thank you,” Shea spoke up but made no effort to remove her hood, following Zaahid who had wandered away.
Royce nodded his head to the innkeeper before following after the two, coming to a curtained off room that had a large low table and cushions on the floor.
“Please, sit wherever you like. Normally my men would be here, but I thought privacy might be in order for our conversation,” he said, gesturing to the cushions.
They settled themselves down, Shea and Royce on one side and Zaahid across from them on the other. As soon as they did, a young boy walked in and asked for their orders.
“The usual for me Turo,” Zaahid ordered.
“Do you have tea?” Shea asked.
“Yes, black and green.”
“I’ll have green then, thank you.”
Turo turned to him next. “Just water.”
They watched the boy leave through the curtains before he exchanged glances with Shea who had lowered her hood.
“I hope Ella and the others are okay,” she said. He could see the stress in her posture, the worry in her eyes, and the tightness of her mouth.
“I’m sure all is well,” he murmured soothingly.
“Zia is a good healer,” Zaahid interjected. “I know they will be okay in his capable hands.” She smiled warmly at him as Turo emerged with a tray laden with various food items and drinks. He placed the tea pot in front of her and the pitcher of water by Royce. Zaahid received the majority of the tray full of food and a pitcher with thick, white liquid in it. He could make out bits of green mixed in. As Turo excused himself, Royce kept his eyes on the drink. He had never seen anything like it before.
“It’s called doh,” Zaahid said, catching his eyes. “Native to us desert folk, a must-have in general. It’s made up of yogurt, salt, and mint. Some people who live in the oases can throw in cucumbers but that’s a rare luxury.” He shrugged and poured himself a cup before taking a deep drink.
“Can I try?” Shea asked curiously. He poured a small cup out and slid it to her, watching her take a sip and laughing at her wince. “It’s not bad,” she admitted. “Refreshingly unique.”
“’Refreshingly unique’ eh? I’ll have to use that.” He chuckled before looking at Royce. “What about you? Want some?”
Royce glanced between the drink and the two before giving in. “Just a small amount, good enough for a sip,” he said begrudgingly, and Shea laughed. He looked at the liquid handed to him and swirled it around. It didn’t smell bad so that was a good sign, right? He took a deep breath before downing the tiny amount of liquid. As it slid down his throat, he instantly felt cooler and more alert. The mint and salt flavored the yogurt beautifully and the coolness of the drink was perfect to counter the heat of the desert.
“Royce likes it,” she observed, smiling fondly at him. He didn't respond, too busy savoring the remaining droplets on his tongue. Would he be allowed to have more he wondered?
“Have your fill, no end to doh here!” Zaahid laughed.
Just then the curtain swung aside, and a familiar figure walked in.
“Jeran!” Shea cried out, leaping to her feet and walking over. “Is everyone okay? Are you alone?”
“My queen.” Jeran bowed formally before straightening. Royce could see through the stooping posture and the half-closed eyes that he was exhausted. “Edmund and Ella are still with the healer, the men are stabilized and will be okay, but they cannot return to the line of duty,” he reported.
Shea looked to the side and Royce knew she must be beating herself up over this mentally, but he couldn’t do anything for her. This was something she had to overcome on her own. It wasn't the first time she had been responsible for the deaths of others and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
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“This is good news and yet there is sadness in your faces,” Zaahid observed, sitting back.
“My foolishness cost these men much,” she admitted lowly and her fists clenched by her side.
“You did what you thought was best,” Royce spoke up. “Blaming yourself will help no one. We can compensate them, give them honorable leave pay. Set them up somewhere.”
Zaahid nodded his head. “As a leader, you oversee those who follow you. Will you always make the best choices? Objectively no, but a good leader will also never endanger the lives of their followers willingly. We cannot control fate; we can only react. We must never doubt ourselves or those who follow will doubt as well. Be honest and open, be human.”
She slowly nodded her head, returning to her seat and biting her lip. Royce could feel her agitation radiating off in waves, so he placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her. Jeran took the seat next to Zaahid, dropping himself down on the cushions and groaning appreciatively.
“Now,” Zaahid said, clapping his hands to draw their attention. “Let’s talk about the Porter.” Shea and Royce exchanged glances. “The Porter is native to our land. There are many scattered throughout and so many desert villages build around it because they allow quick transportation to and from.”
“Wait, they are a kind of instantaneous transportation?” she asked, her brows furrowed.
“Yes, the runes on the Porter can be set to specific runes to go from a specific location to another instantly. Like knowing coordinates on a map. Without Porters, we would not be able to traverse the desert safely. The creatures that roam out there…” He shuddered.
“Then how did you end up here?” Royce asked, wondering if there were Porters here and they just didn’t know about it.
Zaahid shrugged and spread his hands. “That I do not know. Porters, like I said, are native to our land. At least, I thought they were. Somehow ours activated and ported us over here. There has to be another Porter somewhere nearby, but my riders couldn't find any far as they went.” He frowned down at his cup.
“Even those at Techno City haven’t found a way to instantly teleport to places. We began to think it just isn’t possible especially with the risks of potentially leaving matter behind…” She glanced at Royce again before continuing, “so naturally we are both amazed and concerned. Can anyone or anything come across then?”
“If it can configure the runes, yes I believe anyone can come across. Or it could be like us where the whole village is transported too. But coming here shouldn't be possible. No one in my land believes you exist let alone have the runes to send us here.”
“And no one from ours believe you exist either nor have we found these so-called Porters.” Royce grimaced, dragging a hand over his face.
“Surely it isn’t a big deal,” Jeran said, leaning forward. “I mean, maybe it was useful during the times of the Great War, but this could be a great learning opportunity for both of us. Perhaps we can establish more contact and—”
“You can’t be serious.” Zaahid looked between the three of them, his eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?” Jeran asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. Royce couldn’t help but feel uneasy at the sudden change in atmosphere.
Zaahid sat back, giving them a cool look. “Aenealon. I know all about your continent from the stories. Beautiful and full of life. Nothing to really cause you to fear for your life. Your patron Goddess was a protector and defender. She willingly gave her life to ensure your ancestors had a better life. But Aseosos? Aseosos is a harsh, cruel land where it is kill or be killed.”
“From what I read about Aseosos in what little texts I could find, it’s described as a beautiful continent eternally shrouded in night and magic,” Shea said in surprise.
He laughed bitterly. “Oh, is that what you read? Well, we always believe what’s written down in books. Must be right, especially when we’re told that it doesn’t exist from the beginning.”
Royce bristled instantly. “Elves do not lie. They write and speak candidly.”
“I’ve never met an elf in my life so I cannot say what they do or don’t do, but I have lived in Aseosos, and I know exactly what kind of hell it is.”
They stared at each other, both unwilling to waver in their belief.
“Look,” Shea spoke, drawing their attention to her. “We both thought our nations were fictional to each other. It’s only natural that we heard or read things that may or may not be true. So, can you tell us more about Aseosos? What better way to hear the truth then that which is spoken by someone who lived there?” Her tone was polite and interested but her gaze calculating.
He sighed, rubbing his face. “Well, it is all desert. There are some oases but that’s the only green we have. It is also always night, not wrong on that part either. The monsters that roam the dunes are straight out of anyone’s nightmare. Have you read about the monsters? No? Well, they’re vicious and cunning but it’s to be expected of her servants—”
“Wait, 'her servants?' Who is ‘her?’” Shea interrupted, exchanging glances with Royce and Jeran.
At first, Zaahid simply stared at her. She saw the fear begin to creep back into his eyes as he grew fidgety, but he did not remove his gaze from her face. “Her Eminence, the High Priestess of the Order of Atrix," he whispered out finally. He licked his dry lips hesitantly before continuing. “She rules us all.” The words came out strangled and the other three glanced at each other, wondering at the sudden intense fear being displayed. He continued to stare at Shea specifically with his wide eyes before swallowing nervously and opening his mouth. “When I first saw you, I thought...I thought it was her in the flesh. I knew it couldn’t be true but…you look so similar to the paintings we have seen.” He placed his shaking hands in his lap, out of sight.
“Wait, I look like this High Priestess of yours?” She couldn’t help the tone of disbelief. An evil priestess on a “fictional” continent that looked like her enough to strike fear in the man before her? Impossible.
“Truth be told, no one knows what she looks like except for the priestesses who attend to her and those who go to the palace. They never come back so all we have are paintings unconfirmed.” Zaahid sighed. “The Order of Atrix—”
“Are you saying there is an actual order dedicated to the evil goddess that waged war against her sister, killed said sister, and then died in her throne room?” Jeran interrupted chuckling. He stopped abruptly when he caught the look everyone was sending him in the room. “Sorry.” He raised his hands up and shook his head. “I just grew up hearing tales of her and how evil she was. I always thought it was just a warning to be good or else.” His cheeks felt hot, and he lowered his gaze from theirs, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all.
“So,” Royce began, looking at Zaahid to get the conversation back on track. “This order worships the evil goddess like how we still worship Aeneara E’ane’a.”
He shrugged. “Yes, but the difference is that yours I’m sure is a pleasant faith while ours is like a cult. Her Eminence is harsh and cruel. She treats those who follow her badly. She controls the monsters that roam the dunes, ordering them to spy and attack if necessary. It’s how she has remained in such a powerful position.”
Shea bit her lip. “And she would obviously be opposed to friendly contact is what you’re getting to.”
“Yes” —he shifted in his seat here and leaned forward— “she wouldn’t be pleased. Her Eminence follows the will of Atrix E’ane’a and since she has a vendetta against Aeneara E’ane’a then she would seek to destroy you. It’s best that our nations remain oblivious to the existence of each other. To continue this time of peace.”
Royce kept quiet and continued to listen to the conversation. He felt a pit open deep in his stomach as the discussion went on. He wasn’t as surprised as Jeran was currently, sitting with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. No, he had had the privilege of reading the texts from his people and though he doubted for the most part, also believed in the existence of Aseosos. The elves were very secretive with this knowledge and it was forbidden to share it with others. Only few were privy to this knowledge, and they had all agreed to keep it a secret from the masses to ensure peace through obliviousness. How he was allowed to have access to the texts, even he did not know considering he was not well-liked amongst the elves, but he would never forget being taken to the sacred grove by Lady Arune herself and handed the texts. But to actually meet someone from that nation, to hear about this Order of Atrix that could potentially cause devastation and destruction if they learned of Aenealon’s existence was foreboding indeed. He glanced at Shea who was leaning back, eyes closed, and ever insistently chewing on her lower lip. He knew she was processing the information and figuring out the best way to handle the situation.
Royce cleared his throat to gain the attention of the people in the room. "Couldn't you have entered the runes to your location and send yourself back? You've been here for about a fortnight right?" he asked.
Zaahid sighed. "We tried. It didn't work for some reason. We tried everyday, but the Porter wasn't responding to our inputs. The last time we tried, it started to glow that weird red and we've left it alone ever since."
Royce nodded his head thoughtfully. “If we managed to find a way to send you back, would she find out you came here?”
Zaahid had begun to shake his head but then stopped, his face draining of color. “I forgot! We send tithes to the palace every month as a means of paying for protection from the creatures. Tomorrow is when we are supposed to send it out. The Order will find out we are missing if nothing gets sent.”
“I doubt their first assumption would be that you teleported to a fictional continent,” Jeran said.
“Yes, anything could have happened to you in the desert full of creatures,” Shea added in.
Zaahid shook his head before hanging it. “The Porter wouldn’t be missing too. Even if something happened to us, the Porters are always left untouched.”
Zaahid was a seasoned warrior. He had been through a lot in his lifetime and had little to no fears. However, one fear he could never overcome had been instilled into him since he was a child. He grown up witnessing the horrors and devastation of the giant monsters. People missing as they wandered through the desert to make trades, the monsters that roamed often nearby nearly camouflaged into the night, the palace that glowed like a mirage in the far-off distance, and the destruction of the neighboring village a couple of years ago. A destruction that would befall upon them if they didn’t return by tomorrow to send out their tithes.
“Then don’t go back,” Royce said simply. Zaahid snapped his head up, looking at him incredulously. “There is no way you would be able to make it back by tomorrow and if something bad is going to happen, wouldn’t it be best to just stay here?”
“This isn’t our home, our desert. We don’t know the customs here or the people. We don’t even speak the language, we can’t…” He looked to Shea for some sort of help in explaining the rising feelings knotting in his throat.
She looked at him with understanding eyes and a sad smile. “Royce is right, we have to examine the Porter and see what it is. Understand it better in case another incident like this happens. Your desert, much as it was your home, sounds extremely dangerous and I fear that you would not be welcomed with open arms upon your arrival.” She spread her arms out. “The Ariyé desert is vast and spacious and while there are dangers lurking within the sands, you would have a better life I feel here. There doesn't seem to be a problem with how we communicate and honestly the only other human-like community you'd find out here would be the cyborgs within Techno City, but they rarely interact with others. You can still practice and enjoy your customs and there are more opportunities should you choose to leave and explore all that Aenealon has to offer. Plus, it’s not always night.” She winked at him.
Royce scowled, feeling sorry for the man across from him. Despite the reassurances, he understood that it wasn’t easy to just uproot quickly and settle down in a foreign area. It wasn’t easy to learn a new culture and language. On top of this, how do you suspend your disbelief on what is fiction and what is reality? He could see Zaahid’s inner struggle splayed out across his face. The quick eyes, furrowed brows, tight mouth, and clenched hands were all indicators.
Finally, Zaahid relaxed leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. A sideways smile shifted onto his face. “When we first saw the light of day… It was indescribable the feeling we felt. I think we all figured we had died and gone to a paradise straight out of the books we read.” Jeran and Shea smiled at the child-like awe that had entered his voice. Royce looked away, letting this be another reminder to himself that one shouldn’t take what they have for granted when others were far less fortunate. “It’s not like the sun doesn’t exist for us. Aseosos isn’t shrouded in the darkness of night because the sun isn’t there. It’s some sort of spell, curse really, that has existed since the Great War. There have been records of us trying to dispel it but…”
“Understandable.” Shea, Jeran, and Sir Zaahid all looked at Royce who hadn’t realized he had spoken out loud. “She was the goddess of light and darkness, right? She lost the light within herself, so she shrouded her lands against the sun, finding comfort in the dark.” His elaboration drew out differing looks amongst the three, shock on Jeran’s, intrigue on Shea’s, and sadness on Zaahid’s.
They sat in silence, lost in their thoughts. Turo came in with a fresh pitcher of water and doh, clearing up the empty plates. He left them in their silence and thoughts, wondering if his mother would release him from his chores tomorrow so that he could play tushla baazi with the other kids for the first time out in the sun.
*~*
Edmund had drifted off to sleep on the chair, but a hand on his shoulder jerked him awake. His hand automatically reached for the handle of his sword and he would have grabbed it if it had been there. He blinked blearily, the fading candles causing shadows to shift around eerily.
“You should go rest at the inn. They’ll be fine here.” It was the healer. Everything that happened quickly came back to him.
He settled down and closed his eyes. “I’m fine here.”
“I’m not. These men will be fine, and I need to rest as well. I can’t do that with you here.” The healer’s tone was firm. “Also, the little lady shouldn’t be forced to sleep uncomfortably here either. She needs good rest to heal properly.”
Edmund opened his eyes at this, looking for Ella. She was sitting on a chair, her chin resting on her chest as she slept. On one hand, Edmund didn’t want to leave his men behind but on the other, he wanted to sleep on a good bed tonight and he knew Ella needed to as well. “If anything happens to them while I’m gone,” he began, the warning tone conveying the unspoken threats.
“On my oath as a healer, they will be fine.”
He studied the healer as best he could in the dim lighting before nodding curtly and standing up, wincing at the soreness he felt in his butt and thighs. He walked over to the fairy, shaking her gently to wake her up. She shifted, moaned, and lifted her head slowly.
“Is everything alright?” she asked softly, her eyes struggling to remain open.
“Yeah, we’re just going to the inn,” he answered, his voice gruff. He would not let the sleepy cuteness of the fairy dissuade him from his usual mean demeanor.
He absolutely refused to.
Ella nodded, slowly standing up. “I hope I can make it. I feel so dead on my feet.” She stretched and yawned, feeling her wounds protest in pain.
Edmund didn’t want to offer, he didn’t even want to think of doing it. But she was his comrade, and they would move faster if he did. “I can carry you,” he offered.
She stared at him.
He stared back.
The healer coughed politely.
“I don’t think you can carry me and your weapons,” she teased, trying to lessen the awkwardness. She slowly made her way to the door, thanking the healer before leaving the building. He watched her go and then gave one last glance at the dark figures lying around, sleeping soundly.
“Take care of them for me.” He didn’t say thank you, but he did his best to convey his gratitude through his eyes. The healer nodded, a half-smile on his face. With that, he exited the house and was met with a much brighter street.
Ella was waiting for him near his weapons, swaying and shivering from the coolness of the night. He attached his weapons methodically, reflecting on the day’s events. He was still angry at the queen for lying to them. He was also angry at himself for not contributing much to the battle. If he had only done better maybe he would have been able to save more of his men. Honestly, it was his fault now that he thought about it and—
“Edmund.” He jerked his head up at his name in surprise, staring at the fairy who gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”
What did she know for her to say that it was okay?
“You don’t know anything,” he voiced the thought out loud.
“I know that you’re blaming yourself for the men in there and I know that you’re angry because you were lied to.”
“Then you know it’s not simply okay.”
“The feeling of anger, helplessness – it’s okay to feel that. But don’t let it consume you entirely. Find a way to release it in a positive manner. I think the first step to doing that is to be okay with how you’re feeling. That’s what I do, what I’m doing even now.” Her eyes were warm and full of understanding and her smile was sympathetic and sweet.
Ugh. Typical fairy.
“Sure,” he muttered. When he finished with his last buckle, he nodded to her. “Where do we go? I don’t know the way.”
“I think I can use some magic to follow Jeran’s trail.” She lifted her hand and small green orbs, reminding him of fireflies really, materialized. “Follow Jeran’s trail,” she whispered to the orbs. They danced out of her hand and down the street, leaving a green shimmery trail for them to follow. She made to move and nearly collapsed, stumbling to regain her balance. Edmund quickly reached out to steady her and she smiled gratefully at him. “My legs feel like jelly,” she said sheepishly. Wordlessly he swung her over his shoulder, positioning her carefully so that she was comfortable despite the plated metal and weaponry hanging from his back. It would be easier for her wings this way. She let out a shout of surprise and then giggled. “Thank you, my hero,” she teased. He ducked his head, feeling a hot flush creeping up his neck and began to follow the trail.
“Don’t call me that,” he muttered. He chose to ignore her answering laugh.
Ugh. Fairies.
They didn’t talk for the rest of the trip, remaining in companionable silence. At least that is what Edmund thought until he approached the door of the inn and gently shifted Ella so that he could place her on her feet. Catching a glimpse of her face, he realized that she had fallen asleep.
Ah.
He had no choice then. He moved her back onto his shoulder and walked through the door, half hoping the sounds of an inn would wake up the fairy, but it was pretty late and the inn wasn’t even half full anymore. The people left were either dozing at their tables or whispering to their companions. The light had shifted to a much more comfortable dull glow that did not hurt the eyes.
“You must be one of them.”
He looked at the woman who spoke, a portly sort that was writing in a ledger behind the counter.
Well, that was one way to greet guests.
“You must be the innkeeper’s wife,” he greeted in return.
She snorted. “Not anyone’s wife, not anymore. I own this place.”
He raised a brow. “Good for you. Well, I’m here looking for my companions. We met Wayid, I think that's his name, and he told us to come here.”
“Zaahid and I already know this. Why do you think I said what I said?” She gave him a look that clearly expressed she thought him daft. He felt the beginnings of a scowl appear on his face. “They already ate and went up to their rooms a bit ago. I got some food and drink if you’re hungry or if you’re ready to turn in my son can lead you upstairs.”
“We’ll just turn in," he said curtly.
She nodded, seemingly unoffended with his rude demeanor. “Turo, take them to theirs rooms!” Her loud call roused several nearby sleeping people who grumbled at the disturbance. She didn’t care, instead giving them one last glance over before returning to her books, muttering something that Edmund did not have the privilege of hearing but knowing it was about him, nonetheless.
He would not punch the innkeeper’s wife. He would not.
“This way,” a small voice said right next to him, and Edmund nearly dropped Ella at the suddenness of the boy’s materialization. Regaining his wits, and maybe even thanking the boy in his head from saving him from his violent thoughts, he examined the boy waiting. His eyes noted the tall thinness of the figure, a swarthy complexion and dark, thick hair crowning his head. Almond-shaped brown eyes stared back at him disinterestedly before turning and walking up the stairs.
Ugh. Kids. No respect for their elders!
He followed the boy, taking care not to disturb the sleeping fairy draped over his shoulder and ignoring the curious looks the inhabitants shot his way. It wasn’t him he was sure they were staring at, definitely not the big guy with the big weapons no. It must be because of the fairy.
Yeah. Definitely the fairy.
The boy walked down the hall and turned left, gesturing to the first door on the left and then the one next to it. “They’re the same,” he said simply before leaving.
Great.
He opened the door to the first room and enjoyed the instant cozy feeling that washed over him. It was small sure, but the four-poster bed looked absolutely divine for someone who had been on the roads for a month and the small fireplace was already lit. He walked over the thick, grey wool carpet that covered the sandstone floors and drew back the covers of the bed, struggling with his one hand. Finally, he was able to deposit his sleeping bundle on the white sheets, pulling the covers up gently. He knew that fairies hated sleeping on human beds because of their wings, but he hoped that leaving her on her side would be okay enough for the night. He walked out of the room quietly and went to his, ready to open the door when the one across from Ella’s opened and a familiar redhead poked her head out.
“My queen,” he said, bowing as best he could in the small corridor.
“Edmund, you’ve returned,” Shea murmured softly, stifling a yawn into her hand. “I presume Ella is already in bed?” He nodded. “Good, she needs the rest. How was everything?”
He shrugged or tried his best with the heavy gear strapped on him. “I’m sure you heard everything from golden boy. They’ll heal fine, many of them won’t be able to fight again. No thanks to you.” He couldn’t help the last part, the anger in him forced it out.
“Edmund, I wanted to apologize to you. I know that lying wasn’t the best thing to do but I was sworn to secrecy by the council. I had no choice.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s something that will haunt me I’m sure for the rest of my life.”
He rolled his eyes. His ears couldn’t help but hear insincerity whether it was there or not. Nobles were all the same in his eyes, using those they deemed inferior as pawns in their never-ending game of chess, checkers, or whatever the hell those heartless bastards played when they weren’t bathing in gold tubs full of virginal blood. At the end of the day, we are just disposable to those in power he thought sourly.
“I can only hope. Now, unless your apology also consisted of hopping into my bed”—she glared at him— “I must get some sleep.” With that he stepped into his room and closed the door, damning the rules of etiquette. He stood by the door long enough to hear the soft swearing and closing of her door before making his way wearily to the bed, stripping off his gear as he went. He collapsed face down on the blankets, not bothering to get underneath and closed his eyes.