Dylap

by A. C. Salter

  “I would be honoured, Sir.”

  “That is good. You should find a suitable set of clothes in the wardrobe, but if not, I will arrange for a tailor.”

  “No, there are clothes in the wardrobe, Sir.”

  Clothes wouldn’t be the problem. Proving to Elaya that he would be strong enough to attend would be the problem.

  “You won’t be strong enough,” Elaya stated after Sabesto had left. “It’s out of the question. What if you collapse at the wedding or Urlmince decides to poison you or…”

  Dylap had no point to argue with, he would be extremely tired and probably not strong enough to endure the full ceremony. He found Elaya’s over-protective mothering a little annoying if not endearing. There were no words he could use to still her mouth so instead he kissed her.

  She froze, hands halfway to his chest before she softened and melted into his arms. Her wings flexed out to their fullest, rainbow colours reflecting from the transparent membrane as they relaxed.

  Dylap tasted cinnamon and apple on her tongue, the sensation forcing heat into his stomach where he felt a thousand tiny millipedes tapping away at his heart.

  When they parted she stared at him, her chest rising and falling in time to his; cheeks flushed red. She was beautiful, she came closer to put her forehead against his.

  “Was that just to shut me up?” she asked, sounding out of breath.

  “Yep,” Dylap admitted. “Why, are you going to continue talking?”

  She smiled, her brown eyes widening as she pressed her lips against his. “Only if you’ll shut me up again.”

  Three days came and went in a flurry of dreams. His mind absorbed by Elaya, he found little time to venture from the chamber and so when the hour neared to accompany Sabesto, he was ill prepared.

  “You look a lot better,” his master said as they climbed aboard newly tamed hummers. The birds were brushed and their tack polished to a high gleam.

  Dylap stretched his neck and pulled at the collar, finding the tight-fitting tunic restricting.

  “Thank you, Sir. It’s Elaya I must thank for that.” She had helped him to get ready, his unsteady hand unable to hold the razor straight as he almost hacked his face open. She had taken the blade from him and scraped the stubble from his chin.

  As much as he wanted to return to her, he was getting a thrill from flying again. The hummers took a direct path to the Palace, the Alabaster surrounded by extra guards patrolling the sky and walking the canopy.

  “Are you feeling nervous?” Sabesto asked, nodding towards the great white tree that was drawing closer.

  “A little,” Dylap admitted. “What about you, Sir?”

  “Terrified,” he said, grinning.

  They landed on a thick branch as other guests were arriving. Two burly guards took the reins of the birds and lead them away, leaving them to mingle with the other fairies. Not one for smalltalk, Sabesto simply stood on the edges of the limb and watched the others conversing. Dylap got the impression that they themselves were the topic of most conversations.

  “This way if you please,” came a voice by the trunk. The fairy gestured through two large doors which were beautifully carved and decorated with gold leaf. Dylap and Sabesto followed the others as they entered a large receiving hall, long tables stretching around a central dais, white snowdrops forming a dome over the ornate structure.

  “Master Sabesto,” the fairy who led them in said. “The King has requested that you sit with him for the ceremony.”

  Offering the servant a nervous smile, they followed him to a large table that overlooked the rest. Already seated was Prince Rybal and Edvin, deep in conversation with two split-wings which Dylap took to be the King and Queen of the nomad tribes. When they noticed them, Prince Rybal’s face lit up, teeth as white as his wings.

  “Sabesto, Dylap, it’s most excellent that you join us. Please let me introduce Queen Balwass and her husband Yillk,” he said and Dylap caught the anxious edge to the Prince’s voice. It was common knowledge that Sabesto lost his son to this Queen and her armies. He wondered if the King had wanted this meeting as a test to see what his subjects would feel towards the warring nomads.

  Sabesto lowered his head and formally greeted them. “Good evening, Queen Balwass, King Yillk,” he said, hiding the true feelings that Dylap knew he was experiencing.

  They sat at the table across from the others, Edvin offering Dylap a friendly nod.

  “Yillk is my mate, nothing more,” the Queen said, dark eyes soaking up the size of Sabesto. “My people won’t suffer a king, only a queen. It is by strength and skill of the sword that Yillk sits beside me now.”

  Yillk regarded them coldly, the muscles in his thick arms flexing as he reached out of habit to pat the hilt of a sword that had already been taken from him. He ground his teeth as he fixed them with a scowl.

  “I am the greatest amongst the split-wings,” he said plainly. “It is my honour to serve the Queen. I’ve been her husband longer than any other.”

  “Quiet, Yillk,” the Queen said, her eyes finally leaving Sabesto to catch Dylap, her gaze falling to his spines and a smirk playing over thick lips. “This is the creature they pulled from the Twine? I hear he is a bird-soother.”

  “That he is,” Prince Rybal said. “And Edvin tells me he is quite the rider too.”

  “And where do you originate from, Dylap?” the Queen asked, pronouncing his name as if a sour bilburry had been placed on her tongue.

  “He doesn’t know,” said another, coming to the table. “Or at least that’s what the creature claims.”

  Urlmince sat heavily on the other side of the Queen, his hatred burning directly across the table at Dylap. Princess Terina elegantly lowered herself in the seat beside her brother, the furthest point from the split-wings as possible.

  “This is my sister, Princess Terina,” the Prince, said. “And her fiancé, Urlmince, they are set to marry at next summer’s solstice.”

  Urlmince’s glower was kept directed upon Dylap during the entire exchange. The Palace would need to fall down before the general’s son would look away.

  “Marriages,” the Queen said as if it was a mystery that there was no solving. “Why devout yourself to only one mate? Why not have more? Husband is simply the man who shares your bed, only the strongest in battle gets that privilege. At the moment, it is Yillk. Tomorrow there may be a new challenger.”

  “If that is all that is required of a split-wing king then I am glad to be a Farrosian,” the King said as he sat next to Sabesto, his belly brushing the table and setting the silver candelabra rocking.

  “King Leobold,” the Queen said as they all rose from the table to bow. “How gracious of you to invite us to your brother’s wedding.”

  When they were all re-seated, the King began to chuckle. “Queen Balwass, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to shove my sword down your throat. But like my brother said, war only leads to more war. Violence to violence, so being the greater race, I will take the first step towards peace.”

  The Queen raised her glass of wine. “Peace,” she said, although Dylap noticed the smirk return.

  “I am also the leader of the split-wing armies,” Yillk cut in, obviously angered by his wife’s earlier comments.

  “Yes, Yillk, but only until my next husband takes your head.”

  “Pray, save your violent words for another time,” the Queen of Farro said as she glared at her counterpart of their once sworn enemy. “My daughter, Terina, has a gentle temperament and hates such vulgar language.”

  “Please forgive me,” Queen Balwass said, nodding both at Princess Terina and her mother. “I am unused to being in the company of such delicate flowers.” She spoke softly, although Dylap sensed a slight in her words.

  Dylap remained quiet throughout the evening. Only eating small bites of the rich food and sipping at water. Like Sabesto, he stayed away from the wine, feeling the inner struggle his master was having with the drinks before them. It helped whe
n he and the King began immersing themselves in conversation about past hunts and the hunts that they planned for the future. Urlmince stole glances at him, finding time to scowl between talking to the Queen and Yillk, and Dylap got the impression that he was the subject of great ridicule. He was glad when a sister to the Blessed Mother appeared and ordered silence for the wedding ceremony to begin.

  Prince Hindle stepped towards the dais, aided by a servant. Age and illness kept him stooped over and he winced with each shuffling step. He was younger than the King, but a wasting disease had aged him way beyond his years. His pure white wings were the only thing resembling him to the royal line.

  From the other side of the hall the bride-to-be stepped timidly towards the centre, her white gown flowing behind her, almost hiding the blue and green wings folded tightly under a veil. Dylap was surprised to see that she was a great deal younger - she wasn’t much older than himself.

  The bride and groom stepped up onto the dais, the snowdrop dome shrouding them as the sister to the Blessed Mother held their hands.

  “He’s old enough to be her grandfather,” Yillk whispered.

  “That the wasting disease that’s done that to him,” Urlmince explained in a hushed voice. “Just wait until they perform the bonding-kiss.”

  “Bonding-kiss?” Yillk asked.

  “Shush, watch,” Queen Balwass hissed.

  The sister raised their hands, holding them high for all to see.

  “The Blessed Mother has thrice kissed the fae, giving us the gift of flight and of each other,” she said, her voice echoing around the large hall. “These blessing we receive and cherish, yet it is the third gift that is blessed upon the fae of Farro which is held the greatest. The Gift of the bonding-kiss, which we will witness today. Prince Hindle of Farro, brother to the King will share his blood with Nimly, a fairy so fair she has no title. They will become as one, each sharing in each other and becoming one family. Let us stand and bear witness to the bonding-kiss.”

  They all rose as Prince Hindle and Nimly faced each other, the former holding firmly to the latter for support as they embraced. Their heads leaned to the side to expose their necks as their mouths touched each other’s skin.

  Dylap thought they were only kissing until he noticed a thin trickle of blood running from between the lips and bare necks, hers running into the nape of her white dress while his soaked into his military uniform.

  Dylap watched, seeing the two bite the neck of the other and drink the blood. An odd feeling came over him. This wasn’t the first time he had seen this, he was sure, but like the rest of his past, it was locked away in his mind far from reach.

  The audience gasped as the Prince began to straighten, his pure white wings taking on a blue green hue, yet he appeared younger and more vibrant.

  Nimly on the other hand, although smiling, her skin had taken on a waxy complexion and she seemed to have aged a number of years. It was as if they both grew either younger or older to become the same age in the middle. Tears tracked down her face as she glanced at her wings, the colours that they bore before paling, until they were the same hue as her husbands. How awful, Dylap thought, but Nimly’s tears seemed to be tears of joy.

  “What just happened?” Yillk asked.

  “The bonding-kiss,” Urlmince said. “The Prince was dying. The only way he would live is if he bonded with another healthier fairy. When they performed the bonding-kiss, it shared the blood.”

  “It healed him?”

  “Yes, the strength of the other went into him, ridding him of the disease.”

  “But the girl has aged?” Queen Balwass said, sounding puzzled.

  “She was but a serving girl. From this, she has become a Princess and her wings have become purer. She gains just as much as Hindle.”

  The sister to the Blessed Mother wiped the blood from their necks as the newlywed couple turned to the hall, both smiling.

  “The bonding-kiss is complete, under the Blessed Mother you are now husband and wife.”

  The people around the tables clapped and cheered as the revitalised Prince Hindle led his wife away from the dais towards the King.

  Dylap watched them approach, wondering over the possibilities of what would happen if he performed the bonding-kiss with Elaya. He shook the thought from his mind. They had kissed a lot in the past three days. But marriage would be a thing far in the future.

  A weariness began to creep over him. His energy levels were ebbing and he longed to return to his chamber, to his bed and to Elaya.

  18

  Far From Home

  Dilbus’s boots squelched as he and Limble worked their way closer to the water’s edge, the river having revealed another glittering clue. He held one end of a rope that was tied around his companion’s waist, while he crept closer to the jut of glass that poked clear of the mud.

  “Hold still, you’re only going to sink further the more you wriggle,” he snapped at Limble who floundered in the mire. The large fairy began to windmill his arms, belly swaying back and forth until he regained his balance.

  “Grab a hold of that twig and lean closer, it’s within reach.”

  He heard Limble grumble under his breath as he put his weight on the broken twig and stretched. The rope went taut as he snatched the glass from the mud. It came away with a soft galumph sound and almost succeeded in spilling Limble into the wet gloop.

  “Good, now edge back slowly,” Dilbus directed, eager to place this new find with the others.

  Four weeks had passed since leaving the city, following the snaking Twine as it headed north. Their provisions had run out days ago and now they scavenged for food as well as searching for clues to Dylap’s identity. It wasn’t hard to find bilburries or other fruits, but as the autumn drew on, they would be competing with the squirrels and other hoarders who would be gathering food for the coming winter.

  The thought of spending much longer away from Farro irked him, but Dilbus was sure they would find something soon, other than the several shards of glass they had found already.

  Leaving Limble to brush himself off and wipe the clinging mud from his britches, Dilbus made his way back to his finch which was tied to the bough of a fallen oak. Stroking the bird, he retrieved the sack that was tied to the saddle and emptied its contents onto a maple leaf that lay at his feet.

  Nine pieces of broken glass, all belonging to the same larger object, were spread out before him. Two of the pieces fit together like a jigsaw, the swirling text that was inscribed along the outer edges matching to reveal more of the god-created words. He put the new addition alongside the others, attempting to find another match, but it was clear that although they came from the same vessel - if that was what it was - it didn’t fit next to the others.

  “Well, Sir?” Limble asked as he hobbled closer, attempting to dislodge a blade of grass which stuck to his muddy boots and trailed after him.

  Dilbus shook his head as he placed the pieces back in the sack. “No, it’s the same but I still can’t make a proper pattern yet. We need a more significant find. I’m sure it won’t be long before we find one.”

  His attempt at reassuring his subordinate fell a good way short. Limble slouched against his thrush, bottom lip sticking out like a sulking child as he tore the grass away, it spun in the air before floating to the ground. Dilbus couldn’t blame him. He had a family back at Farro, a wife and children. He should be with them, feeling the warmth that a family gave rather than being stuck out in the wild, chasing an unsolvable puzzle with a captain that much of the city despised.

  Sucking on his teeth, Dilbus untied another sack and took out a small handkerchief that had been tied around a sprig biscuit. He had bought it before they left, for this very reason. Breaking the biscuit in two, he gave half to Limble and put the other half back in the handkerchief.

  Limble’s chubby cheeks formed dimples as he smiled.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Dilbus returned the smile and patted him on the shoulder.
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br />   “We’ll fly for another hour and then find shelter for the night. We can start afresh in the morning. We’re getting close, I know it.” Although how he knew it, he didn’t know.

  They skirted the left side of the river, flying low enough to have full view of the bank while flying high enough so as not to get eaten by the predatory fish that glided below the surface; the long dark shapes following their course, hoping to leap out and swallow them whole. Yet the two-tone water held more dangerous creatures than the fish and the further they headed up the Twine, the more unsettled Dilbus became. They had already come close to a monster with long sweeping tentacles that swatted at them when they flew by. That had happened days ago, the event shaking both Limble and himself enough for them to stay clear of the damned river for half a day. But the mission brought them back.

  “Over there, Sir,” Limble said suddenly, pointing at a log that had drifted into the roots of a twisted willow. An object glinted from the crook of the rotting limb, shining like a beacon.

  Dilbus guided his finch towards the log and landed on the willow roots.

  “At least this time we won’t get caught up in the mud,” he said as he climbed over the root system and onto the decaying log, his boots slipping on the slimy surface.

  Caught in the bough was a wide cylindrical jar as wide as a bull frog and would stand higher than himself. River water swayed inside in rhythm with the waves which lolled over the bank, causing it to bob. It was fractured in many places; large shards having broken away to be washed down river. Some laying safely in his sack that was tied to his saddle.

  “What is it, Sir? Have we found what we were looking for?” Limble asked as he came to join him.

  “Yes, Limble,” Dilbus replied, wincing as he crouched lower to touch the glass. “It looks like a large jar or cup that one of the giant races would use.”