The fae and the hunter, p.23
The Fae and the Hunter, page 23
“Did it have to use my head?” Olyra asked pointedly.
“Why, where else would it land?”
“Your head?”
“Oh, no, that wouldn’t do! Body language is crucial for birds.”
“What about his head, then?” she said, pointing at Ryheart.
“He is a bit taller than you,” Fali said in a sweetly reasonable tone. “I would have had to stand on my tiptoes to speak to it.”
“Alright, fine,” Olyra said with a sigh. “What did you learn?”
“Well, he has the loveliest nest in the forest.”
“What did it say that was useful?” she clarified in an exasperated voice.
“Well, there is a reason bird-brained is an expression. The advantage is they are too dense to be bamboozled by such spells. There is a small building in the centre of these woods, and the trees are exceptionally sick around it. That is where we are headed. Now, one last thing before we go. I am becoming more convinced that there is some exceptionally dark magic involved here, beyond even vampires. If you want to turn back, this might be the last chance you have.”
“I promised I’d follow you,” Ryheart said after a moment. “I’ll be where you need me.”
“All I care about is protecting the country from magical threats,” Olyra said. “Regardless of what you think of me, I mean it.”
“Very well.” Fali addressed them both, “Come along then.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Obfuscation
As they travelled, the forest took on a sickly, pale tone. The Crooked Woods had been twisted and cruel. Here the trees were just ill, tired and barely clinging to life.
At first, as they walked, Ryheart felt disinterested, as if carrying on was some tedious chore. As they continued, his disinterest turned to unease, and then outright revulsion. He found himself dragging his feet and sweating from the effort. As he felt he could no longer cope, Fali called them to stop. Even Olyra’s implacable expression showed relief, and she turned her back from the direction they were travelling. Ryheart had to fight the impulse not to run back to the village.
“Alright, we are hardly making progress anymore, and this is only going to get worse. Take my hands,” Fali commanded, holding a palm out to each of them.
“Why?” Olyra asked hesitantly.
“Because it is getting to the point that it is hard for even me to ignore this passively. I will shield our minds from the effect, and it is much easier with direct contact. It means I will not be able to sense the corruption anymore, but that’s what the bird’s directions were for.”
Ryheart took her hand, feeling a little embarrassed, and so did Olyra. He was surprised how his skin tingled as he touched her glowing hand, but with relief, he immediately felt the oppressive force pushing on his mind fade away.
“Honestly, you Brittayans have so many hang-ups about physical contact,” Fali tutted. “You are like children.”
“You Brittayans?” he asked as they set off again.
“Yes, you and Olyra, dear-heart. Who else?”
Ryheart couldn’t help but feel like a child being led around by the hand, especially with her gentle scolding.
“I don’t know. I just assumed you were one?” he said, feeling awkward. “You don’t have an accent, and you kind of look sort of inherently Brittayan.”
“Ah, that. I am not of any nationality. Remember, I am a creature of magic. Not like other Fae, who are still born here. I am not just a creature with magic; I am magic. I am not flesh and blood the way you are.”
“Is that why you bleed crazy colours?” Olyra asked. Ryheart determined not to ask when she had seen said blood.
“Yes. My magic reacts with ambient magic in the atmosphere and dissipates.”
“So, did you, err, choose to look Brittayan?” Ryheart asked further.
“No. When you met me, you met me in Brittaya. I have no accent, at least that you could hear. So, given you are Brittayan yourself, you presumed I was and saw me as such. If you had met me in a different country speaking their language, you would likely have visualised me with more, ah, foreign persuasion.”
“So, what, I imagined you?”
“Not exactly, no. I am always this height and build naturally formed. My eyes, hair, everything important remains. I am just not ‘white’, or anything else, for that matter.”
“So what colour is your skin?”
“Magic-coloured. My presence radiating always gives whatever you perceive a golden tinge, but aside from that, human eyes cannot process the colour; hence you fill the gaps in.” She paused and looked across to him. “Is my colour really so important, dear-heart?”
“No, no,” he said firmly, “not at all. It’s just weird I don’t see the real you, I guess.”
“You see who I am,” she said, squeezing his hand lightly. “That is the real me.”
“I did wonder about that,” Olyra mused.
“About what?”
“Well, you, err, changed colours.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a bit… silly,” Olyra said hesitantly. Uncharacteristically, Ryheart thought she looked almost embarrassed.
“How so?” Fali prompted lightly.
“Well, you came from the stars when you materialised, seemingly, and your code phrase was ‘The celestial disturbance’. Anyway, when I first saw you, you were sort of, well, green.”
Fali was silent for a moment, then burst out in a peal of laughter.
“Oh, my. I am sorry, Olyra. That is a new one.”
“If we can’t see magic,” Olyra said, firmly changing the subject, “why can we see spells?”
“You do not see the magic itself, just the effect it leaves. Similar to how you do not see light, you just see what it reflects off. Earlier I was trying to sense the corruption we are after, but this spell has put a blanket over it. While we were outside it, I could at least ‘see’ the blanket. Now we are in it; I cannot feel anything at all other than the effect of the spell trying to push us away. Now that I am shielding us from it, I cannot even feel that.”
They carried on at the rough trajectory they had been following, and the forest got even more depressing, if anything. Ryheart found he missed the reassuring – if flighty – presence of Fali’s grey familiar bounding ahead of them, signalling they were heading the right way. Without him, he felt strangely directionless.
Their chaperone’s gentle touch kept his mind clear, however.
They walked for some time, and Fali’s pace quickened subtly, then blatantly, until she was almost pulling them along. As the sunlight started to fade, they suddenly broke into a glade of healthy green trees, life and vibrancy that lifted Ryheart’s spirits.
“Have we ended up on the other side of the spell?” he asked. “I presumed it would be worst at the centre.”
Fali was clearly puzzled too and, for the first time, seemed lost for an explanation. “I would have sworn we had gone the right way, but I cannot feel a trace of the obfuscation anymore, and the place is not suffering from corruption. Possibly there was a redirection spell mixed in, and I did not notice it turn us around.”
She let out a small barrage of troll curses, then let both their hands go. Ryheart felt no urgency to leave the place anymore, whatever was happening.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Cottage
They carried on for a short way led by a thoroughly disgruntled Fali and, to their surprise, came across a small cottage, a young lady sweeping her doorstep.
She looked up as they approached and waved welcomingly.
“Weapons out?” Olyra murmured.
“Let us not assault an innocent lady unless it comes to it,” Fali cautioned. “Do be on guard, though.”
“’Ello, my darlings,” the lady said with a gentle smile. “I don’t get many visitors around these parts. Why, you must be over thirty miles from Suffala.”
Fali swore under her breath at the mention of distance but replied in a sunny tone, nonetheless. “Hello there, friend. We are not intruding, are we?”
“Oh, no. It’s a blessing to have visitors. I welcome a bit of occasional company, though not enough to live with it. It’s getting late, though, and even peaceful woods can be dangerous. Sup with me, and you can rest the night.”
“That is very gracious of you,” Fali said with a polite bow of her head.
Their host led them into the building, the remaining sunlight casting a warm glow into the tiny kitchen they were in.
“Whereabouts are you all from?” she asked as she busied herself at a small cook fire, boiling an iron kettle. “I’ll make you all a nice brew.”
“Londaya,” Olyra supplied after a glance at Fali.
“Oh my, I haven’t been to the capital for an age. How is it nowadays?”
“Full of people and noise,” Fali supplied dryly.
“That’s my experience, too. A quiet life and clean air are all I wish.”
“Yes, you are rather secluded,” Fali commented.
“Oh, there’s a village not too far north from here and Suffala to the south. I grow all the food I need, though, so I rarely get out. Now then, here’s a nice cuppa,” she said sunnily, handing them out. “What were your names again?”
“Fali,” the Fae answered, not giving the others pause to answer. “Yourself?”
“Dollanetha, love. Glad to make your acquaintance.”
As she turned to place the kettle back on the stove, Ryheart went to take a sip from the cup. Fali, however, delicately sniffed her own and then quietly, wordlessly, pushed his hand back down with a sidelong glance. Olyra caught the exchange and nodded her head slightly.
“I don’t know how you brew your tea in the capital nowadays, but the old ways as good as any,” Dollanetha said over her shoulder as she bustled about.
“Absolutely,” Fali replied with a smile. “We just let it cool a little.”
“Ah. Do you mind my asking what you’re doing in these parts of the woods?” she asked, coming over. “Those two are hunters judging from their clothes, but you look dressed in your Sundalisday best, off to pray to your patron deity.”
“Oh, they are hunters, yes. I am travelling to Lindla. I am a rather delicate girl myself and do not have much knack for travel. Papa has some coin and friends in the guild, so he paid these two to accompany me, Foresh and Lalayi,” Fali supplied fictitiously. “It is not official guild work, but coin is coin. They even gave me a sword! Have you ever held one?”
“I can’t say I have, no,” Dollanetha said, looking bemused. “Nearest I’ve come are tools.”
“Well,” Fali continued airily, “it is quite the heaviest thing I have ever held. I could not possibly carry it, so I just have this empty scabbard. Honestly, that is why I have these two anyway, to protect me. Would you like some gold lions to cover our stay for the night?” she asked.
Ryheart tried to keep his expression neutral. Gold lions hadn’t been the currency for near a century. He was sure even with her lack of interest in money, Fali would have picked up on the fact golden crowns were now in use. He had mentioned them enough. Dollanetha didn’t notice the slip.
“Oh, no, that’s alright. I don’t have much use for money myself.”
“Ah. How very kind of you,” Fali said, lifting the cup and blowing on it daintily before taking a long sip.
“How is it?” Dollanetha asked. “Stand up to your fancy Londaya tea shops?”
“Why, yes, it is delightful. It is so well brewed, I can scarcely taste the poison.” Fali spoke in such a calm and pleasant way that it took a moment for her words to sink in. When they did, Ryheart bolted upright in his chair.
“When you make a glamour in future, dear,” the Fae continued conversationally, “you should try to include smell and taste, as well as the obvious senses. They are little details and easily overlooked, I know, but the little things can give it away. It was compelling otherwise, though. Layering this glamour underneath the obfuscation was impressive.”
“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of,” Dollanetha said stiffly, “but I’ve been nothing but a gracious host, and you have no right to come spouting wild nonsense just because I’m Fae-blood. A ridiculous persecution like this made me move in the first place!”
“Oh, do give up,” Fali said, the warmth replaced with a flat, icy tone. “If you are going to try to murder us, at least have the decency to admit so.”
“Oh, well. You can’t blame a girl for trying,” Dollanetha said, a wicked grin on her face. Within a blink, the room changed.
Ryheart nearly bolted from his seat. The once-pleasant visage of their host was horrific. But as he picked out detail, he saw it too was an illusion, but of the mundane kind. She had a terrifying gaping jaw of teeth tattooed around her real mouth, with incisors filed to points. She had a second pair of glaring eyes, but they too were seemingly inked upon her. Despite the situation, she still seemed calm.
“If you’re going to be called a monster just for your blood,” their horrific host said by way of explanation, “you might as well embrace it.”
“Is that what you think an empty-one looks like?” Fali said, sounding both derisive and appalled. “You look like a child playing dress-up.”
“Empty-one?” Dollanetha hissed.
“I can smell the stench of the void all over you. Whatever it promised you, you shall not get it. All you will get is an early grave, and your soul torn asunder.”
“You know nothing of my plans,” she murmured.
“No. But I would like to. Tell me,” Fali commanded simply.
“Why would I?” the witch scoffed.
“Because you gave me your name, and there is a power in that. Doubly so, given you’ve touched magic. It opens a door through your defences that one talented enough can step through.”
“You gave me your name too, creature.”
“An approximation.” Fali shrugged. “A rough translation. I gave fake names for these two. You, however, were silly enough to give me your true name. I can feel it. Now, I think it would be better if we understood each other before we try to kill one another, do you not?”
The witch gritted her teeth, seemingly under a great strain, a vein throbbing in her forehead till she relented. “I lived in Suffala, many moons ago, born to a Fae and a human. The village hated me for it. Anything went wrong, it was my fault. The human in me all but smothered any magic potential I might have had, but my skin carried a slight ember to it. That was enough. Enough for them to blame me when a child went missing. Enough to kill my mother and drive me from the village.”
“If you have no magic, how did you do all this?” Ryheart asked. She stared at him defiantly, till Fali repeated the question.
“They chased me to the forest. I fell into a cave. I heard whispers there. They instructed me on how to speak to them. Summon them. How I could build a sanctuary. They touched me and gave me the power my human blood denied me. I’m going to create an enclave for them, here, in the world. Allow them true passage as more than just a shade and a whisper.”
“To what end?” Fali asked sadly.
“A sanctuary. For them, and all the Fae-blood that humans only look at with contempt and malice.”
“And the dryad you murdered? No place for her in your little sanctuary?” Olyra asked.
“That… the vampires are unruly even under my sway. I couldn’t stop them. Her sacrifice will be remembered come utopia.”
“A sacrifice she did not choose to make,” Fali countered. “I sympathise with your past. Truly. Humans can be brutish and unreasonable. But they are getting there. Slowly.”
“They still tell stories about the evil witch Fae who steals children in the village,” the witch scoffed. “They’re incorrigible.”
“Despite my sympathies, I cannot condone your actions. The stink of the void is upon your heart, and empty-ones cannot be allowed to walk this realm in physical form. Furthermore, your powers are a blasphemy.”
“And what makes them blasphemy? That you don’t like them?”
“Primarily that your soul was ripped in half and filled with the void to give you them. Repent now, and I offer you clemency. You shall not receive another chance.”
The witch contemplated her a moment, taking in the markings on the Fae’s face. Her own visage paled slightly, but her jaw set.
“Where were you when they murdered my mother, and I was forced to raise myself in these gods-forsaken woods? My master has helped me; all you offer is platitudes. It’s far too late to follow any path but this one.”
“Very well. One last thing, the vampires. Where do they come into this?”
“They too ultimately derive from my master. They feed into my power so I can finish my work and summon him.”
“Ah. Well then, that is about the limit of what your name can compel from you. I suppose you better summon your little vampires, and we can put this sad tale to rest.”
“Oh. They prefer their food delivered,” the witch said, flashing her sharpened teeth.
She pressed on the table, and Ryheart’s stomach suddenly rushed to his mouth as he felt himself falling, stone whizzing all around him. The drop was short but violent. Before he could scarcely react, he landed with a bone-shaking stop, breaking the chair under him in two and smashing to the ground. A narrow ray of light illuminated them from above, and then, with a grating of stone, fell shut, leaving him in complete darkness.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Hunter
Ryheart climbed out of the splintered wood he had fallen in, wincing. Fortunately, his armour and the chair had broken his fall somewhat. He was, however, in absolute darkness, and his heartbeat echoed in his ears. He frantically groped through his bag for his flint. Finding it, he set some old cloth aflame and peered into the gloom.
